


Do Not Go Gentle

by AsILayDying



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Relationship Issues, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Torture, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsILayDying/pseuds/AsILayDying
Summary: If Hermione were honest with herself, this was largely her own fault. There was no blaming anyone else, much as she had tried to do so. Voldemort, Dumbledore, everyone and everything was just an excuse to hide from the fact that she had been foolish, had believed where it was hopeless and had taken risks where the price was betrayal and death. Time travel fic. Regulus/Hermione.





	1. In the Beginning

Disclaimer: It is not, nor will it ever be mine.  


Do Not Go Gentle  


Hermione was hiding amongst the rocks, her clothes catching at the jagged edges. The drop behind her was hideous in its fatality, reaching down into the dark waters fathomless depths. She could hear her pursuer climbing after her if she strained her ears. They had extinguished their wand and could not be made out through the gathering darkness.  


A spell suddenly lit up the night. Hermione barely had time to fling herself out of the way before a brilliant green light smashed into the boulder she was just leaning against, bits of rock flying every which way. She could just make out a tall dark outline heading her way as she threw herself behind the nearest tree for shelter. Her breathing was going to betray her if she didn’t calm down, but how could she when she couldn’t see where her wand had been thrown?  


If Hermione were honest with herself, this was largely her own fault. There was no blaming anyone else, much as she had tried to do so. Voldemort, Dumbledore, everyone and everything was just an excuse to hide from the fact that she had been foolish, had believed where it was hopeless and had taken risks where the price was betrayal and death. If only she had used the sharp, logic-driven mind that everyone said she had, then maybe…  


“Come out, Perkins,” the dark-haired witch following her called in a high clear voice, interrupting her morbid thoughts. “You’re a little too old for hide and seek!” Hermione could sense the bloodlust behind the witch’s words. Searching the ground frantically, she thought she could just make out a thin something in the grass to her right through the light of the curse that accompanied these words. It was her only shot and she took it. Diving forward, her hand came to close on the familiar strip of wood, its feeling in her grasp like that of a dear friend.  


Before Hermione could do more than grasp a hold of her wand, however, another spell hit her. Wave after wave of excruciating pain rolled over her as her body twisted on the ground. Her cries cut through the otherwise silent evening like a knife. Above her, her enemy was strengthening the curse, but for once she wasn’t laughing. Her rage was at its boiling point and she wanted nothing more than to pour every bit of it into the filth beneath her.  


“Crucio!” she called again and again. Hermione screamed up at the sky, the noise the only outlet she had against the worst pain she had ever experienced at the hands of the one most capable of delivering it.  


“You think it wise to meddle with things that are beyond you, Perkins? The Dark Lord is not to be bested by a mere half-blood like you!” Bellatrix shrieked, her dark eyes burning with rage at the young woman who had allied herself with enemies of her master.  


Hermione wasn’t in any position to argue. She realized that there was very little chance of getting away, had perhaps known it as soon as Bellatrix Lestrange had found her, and was only able to be happy that the witch standing over her didn’t know the whole truth. If she knew that Hermione had gone after something as precious to the Dark Lord as his horcruxes, that she was at least partly successful, then she would take Hermione to him. It was more than important that he not know; it was everything. As long as the other one hadn’t completely wavered…Hermione’s thoughts faded off into nothing as she was hit with a renewal of the curse.  


More pain. Screams that sounded like they came from anywhere but Hermione’s throat. Her body twitching and jerking in an unnatural fashion. Would she end up like the Longbottom’s? No, she would likely be killed…that was almost nicer…there would at least be an end to the misery.  


The curse had been lifted, Bellatrix was speaking but Hermione, still shaking in pain, was not listening. Her wand was hidden beneath her, but there was no way she could raise it without receiving a killing curse in retaliation. Bellatrix was too skilled, too quick not to see it coming.  


“You thought you could sully the Black blood did you?” Bellatrix’s words finally came into focus. “It will take more than a dirty-blooded muggle lover like you!”  


Hermione began to cough as Bellatrix raised her wand again. There was blood in her coughs, sprinkling the grass in front of her; she could see the tinge of red through the light of her attacker’s wand. She had bit her tongue, more than once. Her eyes flickered up to the enraged witch standing tall and she could see her starting to mouth the words that every witch or wizard knows to fear. Her eyes squeezed shut; she tried to think with triumph on all she had done as she waited for the killing blow.  


It never came. There was a silence that was almost frightening in its intensity as Hermione waited for the finish. Nothing. She opened her eyes to find Bellatrix Lestrange’s attention was on another who had materialized out of the darkness. Hermione, reaching for her wand, felt hope rise up in her chest for the first time since she had come face to face with Bellatrix. She had begun to think that she was alone.  


“You…” Bellatrix couldn’t find words to describe her anger as she faced her once obedient little cousin, their wands raised, and looks of deepest hatred in each face. ‘He should never have dared.’ She hadn’t felt so much fury since Andromeda had run off with the mudblood Tonks…  


“So blood traitor…” Bellatrix breathed, her chest rising and falling in her agitation, “come here to save your filthy little girlfriend are you?” Her heavily lidded eyes were little more than slits.  


“No,” Regulus Black replied coldly, his grey eyes hard. “I’m here to kill you, Bella.” He looked no longer the uncertain child, though not quite eighteen years old, he had been forced to grow faster than he had once thought possible. If he was scared, as he had always been of her, he was very good at hiding it as he stared at his detested cousin.  


“You’re not a killer, Reg.” Bellatrix shook her head. “Just a little, filthy, blood traitor playing at things much bigger and better than yourself. You should have stuck with me; I could have helped you, taught you things the blood traitors could never dream of. But in the end you chose wrong and now you have nothing and no one.”  


Hermione got shakily to her feet and went to stand beside Regulus. “He has me.” Her wand rose to face Bellatrix’s. “…and you will see that I’m not playing.” It was now that the last three years had been leading up to and she had caused it. She would see this all the way through.  


It was her own fault that they were here now. If she hadn’t felt the need to meddle, had just accepted the timeline as it was, then things would be different but she couldn’t keep herself from changing the past. It was her fault.  


She had known better than to meddle, she had known better than to fiddle with time, and she had known better than to poke around through things belonging to the twins.  


Hermione had known, from five year’s long experience, that everything to do with Fred and George Weasley was to be approached with caution. They were never more than a step away from badly controlled chaos. If she had only used her head, this never would have happened. She never would have mingled with inventions best left untouched. She never would have been transported back in time.  


On the other hand, she never would have met Regulus Black…never given him the chance to live another way…

Three years earlier…

She had been staying at the burrow for the summer, enjoying the weeks of sunshine and rest with her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. One morning saw Arthur and Molly Weasley ushering her, Ron, Harry and Ginny to Diagon Alley to purchase their school things. Hagrid had joined them, his half-giant stature a deterrent to whoever might want to mess with any of the group.  


Though most of the group was interested in the new joke shop the Weasley twins had just opened up, Hermione had business with the twins in particular. She had to find a way to remove the black eye she had gotten from one of the boxes they had left behind at the Burrow.  


“Your mother was unable to do anything about it,” she told Fred, who after she had complimented their shop, was doing his best to not seem amused by her misfortune. He handed her a salve that cleared it up and then left her to explore that crowded store. Ginny and her mother were examining several small fluffy creatures that were rolling around in a large cage while Mr. Weasley was looking with interest at a set of muggle magic cards.  


Harry and Ron were her main concern at the moment. She saw Harry’s eyes staring out the front windows of the shop, at Draco Malfoy stalking off hurriedly down the street. Before she could call out a warning, Harry said, “come on!” and dragged Ron under his invisibility cloak. The door to the shop opened and closed a moment later.  


Hermione sighed. She could go after them, probably should, but thought someone should stay behind so Mrs. Weasley didn’t think they all had vanished. Excusing herself from the noise, she headed towards the back of the shop. “It’s alright I’ve got more in the back!” she heard George say to a large group of teenagers who were crowding around him. She followed him into the back room and watched as he began lowering large boxes of what looked like puking pastiles. “Need a hand?”  


“That’s alright, Hermione,” he grinned at her. “Fred told me you liked our stuff. Bet you feel bad about telling us off about it all last year.”  


“Not in the slightest,” Hermione told him, though she too, was smiling. “I am a school prefect and it is my duty to make sure that you guys aren’t breaking any rules while at school.”  


George shook his head. “Same old Hermione.” He gestured towards the shelves behind her. “I know Fred said you can have one for free so have a look. Just be careful not to touch anything that isn’t clearly labeled, not everything’s fine tuned yet.” He then headed out of the storage room, the boxes he had taken down floating in front of him.  


Hermione finding she was alone began to look around the shelves. There were a large assortment of different things, but what really got her attention was a light shining from one of the nearby boxes. It didn’t have a label, but the box was partly open, light pouring out and catching at the eye.  


She should have ignored it, especially after the black eye she had gotten only this morning. It would have been bad luck for her if one of Fred and George’s inventions blew up in her face and they didn’t have a remedy for whatever damage it caused. For once Hermione was not playing with logic. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she cautiously approached the box, pulling her wand out for safety.  


With her wand, she slowly pried open the half closed lid. It was bright but more than that, it was familiar. The shimmering sand within the box brought back memories of years ago, when she was a little third year struggling with more classes than she could reasonably handle and only managing them because of a time turner. A time turner…  


She had thought they were all destroyed during the ministry battle yet here the evidence was staring her in the face. The twins were messing around with time. Partly fascinated and partly troubled, she leaned in more. There was a note on a spare bit of parchment on the box. It said ‘do not touch without gloves.’  


Hermione had no intention of touching it at all. She was just straitening up when the door banged open behind her. Startled, she jumped away guiltily. Her feet shot out from under her and as she toppled into the box, the last clear sounds she heard were her name being frantically called out.  


It was a weird dream, Hermione thought as she lay in her bed. ‘Any minute now Mrs. Weasley will come in to wake up me and Ginny.’ She breathed slowly in and out, feeling the wind tickling at her nose, ‘had Ginny left the window open?’ and tried to turn over. Her shoes were on. That was odd…  


“What have we here? A trespasser, my sweet?”  


She knew that voice but why would he be here? Her eyes fluttered for a moment before finally snapping open. Leaning over her was the long nose of the hated Hogwarts caretaker, Mr. Filch. A cat, very like Mrs. Norris was watching her from behind his legs.  


“What…” she could only gape at him in shock. What in the world was she doing at Hogwarts and how had she gotten there?  


“Well, don’t just lay there looking like a fish,” Filch snapped. “Get up. I’m taking you to the headmaster. He will want to know about any trespassers.”  


Still feeling confused, Hermione scrambled to her feet, shaking the grass off of her clothes as she did so. She quickly picked up her wand before following the irritated caretaker across the grounds and into the castle, Not-Mrs. Norris following carefully, eyes narrowed on Hermione as though daring her not to follow.  


They made their way through the castle, up familiar stairwells and to the stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore’s office. Filch barked out the password and then ushered her up the stairs ahead of him. He did not so much knock on the door granting access to the headmaster’s office as hammered at the door.  


They were admitted entrance to the chamber a moment later to find a curious looking Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, stroking the brilliant plumage of his phoenix, Fawkes. “Argus,” he said pleasantly, “what may I do for you?”  


“I found this girl,” Filch regarded Hermione with venom. “Lying out on the grounds. She is obviously a trespasser.”  


“I’m a student!” Hermione said defensively.  


“A student,” Filch snorted. “Then why are you here during the summer, girl? There is no class now.”  


“I…” Hermione’s voice faltered. Words failing her, she looked up at the headmaster for support. He regarded her in silence for a moment before smiling.  


“I’m glad you enjoyed the grounds so much, but perhaps it would have been better if you saved your rest until after we had discussed your education.”  
Filch and Hermione both stared. “You know this girl then?” Filch asked disbelievingly.  


“Indeed,” Dumbledore regarded him calmly. “She is to be a new transfer student at Hogwarts this coming year.”  


“I thank you for letting me come here,” Hermione just found the words to say. An idea, an impossible idea, was beginning to take root in her mind.  


Filch was not to be dissuaded. “She was just lying on the grass sleeping,” he said bitterly. “If she was here to see you, then what was she doing that for?”  
“

For the pleasure of enjoying our well kept lawns, I imagine,” Dumbledore replied serenely. “Sometimes I envy the students that simple pleasure. Now, Argus, if we have cleared this matter up, there are a few things I wish to discuss with her in private. If you don’t mind.”  


Filch looked like he very well did mind but knew better than to argue with Dumbledore. He threw Hermione a look of deepest disgust and mistrust before stalking over to the door, his faithful familiar no more than a step behind, the door shutting with more force than was necessary behind him.  


As soon as they were both out of the room, Hermione turned to the headmaster, who was still sitting behind his desk, waiting she realized, for her explanation. Before she could give one, Hermione found herself asking him the question most on her mind: “Would you mind telling me what year this is?”  


Professor Dumbledore did not give any sign that the question was in any way unusual. Regarding Hermione calmly, he answered “It is 1976.”  


End of Chapter  



	2. Chapter 2

Do Not Go Gentle  


Chapter 2  


It took Hermione a few minutes before she could talk. There was so much she wanted to know, so much she didn’t understand. Dumbledore was patient enough to give her the time to gather her thoughts together. She glanced hopelessly around the room, her eyes taking in the sleeping portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses. All she wanted to know was how was this even possible?  


“Is it possible for someone to go so far back in time?” she asked.  


“That would depend,” Dumbledore said. “Just how far back have you gone?”  


She hesitated a moment. It seemed foolish to just reveal so much about herself, and in the process, the future. Yet she felt that she needed to confide in someone. If Hermione couldn’t trust Dumbledore with her secret, then there was no one she could trust.  


“It was July of 1996.”  


Dumbledore’s kindly expression did not change. “Indeed.”  


“Yes. I was with my friends and one of them; his older brothers own a joke shop. They had a box in the back and I know I shouldn’t have touched it, but it had materials to make up a time-turner. I ended up at Hogwarts and I’m not quite sure how, but it was an accident, I swear. I was not trying to trespass or anything like Mr. Filch said I’m doing…” she stopped then as she realized she was rambling.  


“It might be best,” Dumbledore told her, “if you don’t reveal too much of this to any of your fellow students. If you don’t mind, I think it should be kept between us.”  


Hermione nodded. “Does that mean I’m going to be staying here?” she asked.  


“Oh yes.” Dumbledore nodded. “It would be safest here for you, as a future student of this school, than out in the world. There is, as you might know, a war going on in wizarding Britain at this time. The school is the safest place for an underage witch or wizard, particularly one in your strange predicament.”  


Hermione felt relief. The headmaster believed her. He would surely help her get home, there was no one better. There was one last thing, however.  


“Professor Dumbledore, about the war, in the future…” she trailed off as Dumbledore held up a hand.  


“Please, it would be best if anything to do with the future is kept from everyone, myself included. No one should have all of the knowledge ahead of time.” He smiled at her then. “Which reminds me, you must have a name and a back-story until we find out if you can be sent back.”  


“I have…” Hermione began but she stopped at the look Dumbledore was giving her. “Right.” Not her real name of course. “It’s…Perkins.”  


“Indeed?” Dumbledore said again. Realizing he was willing to let her handle this on her own, she continued.  


“Rose Perkins.” The name rolled off the tongue easily. Her mother’s maiden name. Her father’s mothers first name. “I’m a half-blood,” she said as Dumbledore continued to watch her. “My mother is a witch, my father a muggle. She taught me at home.” Yes that sounded good, but why would she suddenly send Hermione to Hogwarts if she had been educating her at home, especially after she had already missed the O.W.Ls? “…and she is dead,” she finished sadly. “She died just this summer and Dad thinks that I should come here. He can’t teach me magic being a muggle and all.” She looked up hopefully at the headmaster.  


For a moment he said nothing. Then: “I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Perkins. Your father was right to send you to us. I’m sure that you will be an excellent addition to our school.”  


Hermione smiled back. “Thank you.”  


“Now, you will be needing your school books, as well as ink, quills; potions ingredients should you chose to take potions. Which classes were you planning on taking, Miss Perkins?”  


“Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,” Hermione answered.  


“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “I will see that one of the teachers takes you to Diagon Alley to collect your school things. We just sent out the lists yesterday.”  


“Headmaster, I cannot pay for all of this,” Hermione told him. She felt more at sympathy with the Weasley’s than ever before.  


“That is an easy fix,” Dumbledore told her. “At Hogwarts, we are always ready to accommodate those less fortunate when it comes to money. There may be a few second hand items amongst your new school things, but we will make sure that you have everything that you need.”  


Hermione felt immensely grateful to the aged wizard sitting in front of her. She needed at least one person on her side in this and she could think of no one better. He stood up suddenly, his long sweeping blue robes and pointed hat a sight of great comfort as he strode around the desk and took her hand in his. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Rose Perkins.”  
~~~  


Three days later found Hermione following cheerful, little Professor Flitwick around Diagon Alley as they made their way down the list of things that Hermione would need for school. Her eyes wandered from building to building, almost as though she expected Harry or Ron to head out of one of them, bags in hand, to fall into step beside her.  


“Now you have a wand already, so it is best that we head to Flourish and Blott’s first, get all your school books out of the way,” Professor Flitwick said. “I’m rather found of that shop myself, an excellent choice of reading material. Even a decent number of Muggle literature.”  


Hermione agreed. “I’ve been there as well and I love the store also.”  


Flitwick beamed at her as he held open the shop door. Hermione felt her spirits lift at the rows of books, new and old, that met her eyes. The store was filled with people, most of them students from the looks of it, gathering around and checking over lists.  


Hermione ignored the painful reminder that she knew no one here as she glanced around. The Charms professor was watching her with something like satisfaction in his eyes as she headed for the nearest shelf.  


“History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot,” Hermione read. She sighed in longing. “…and here’s Hogwarts a History. These books were like old friends come to say hello. Her face then fell as she remembered that she couldn’t buy them with the little money she had left.  


“Pick one.” Professor Flitwick had appeared at her elbow. “Whichever one you want most, I’ll pitch in the money for.”  


Hermione shook her head wildly. “No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”  


“Miss Perkins, you are not asking, I’m offering to buy one for you. Unless there is another book you would like better?” he added kindly, gesturing towards the packed shelves.  


Hermione smiled. “I’ve would really like one of these.” She missed having her copy of Hogwarts, a History.  


Professor Flitwick took the book from her. “It is an excellent choice. I’ll just hold onto it while you finish your shopping.” He looked so good-natured, so happy to do this for her that Hermione could no longer argue.  


“Thank you, Professor.” She quickly began to search the shelves for the rest of her books, not wanting to get caught up in looking for things off her list that she couldn’t have. There was always the Hogwarts library for that. The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 6 was quickly pulled from a shelf along with One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and Advanced Potion Making. It took a little while but eventually she found her books for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as well. They paid for her books with the money Dumbledore had given her and left the shop.  


Hermione bought her new robes next, and then set about finding new quills and ink. Finally after she had gotten everything, they headed for the Leaky Cauldron where the landlord Tom, an elderly, toothless man, greeted them.  


“This is a new student Tom,” Professor Flitwick said excitedly. “She is going to Hogwarts for the first time.”  


Tom grinned at Hermione. “Really? You’ll love the school, everyone enjoys Hogwarts.”  


“I can’t wait.” Hermione hoped she didn’t look nervous.  


“We will just be grabbing a bite to eat before heading back, Tom,” Professor Flitwick said. The two made their way to an empty table, past a pair of bickering warlocks and an old hag with a long green veil. 

Settling herself across from Professor Flitwick, Hermione looked down at his smiling face.  


“Thank you for doing this for me, Professor.” She gestured towards her bags. “And thank you for the new book.”  


“It’s no trouble,” Professor Flitwick said. “I would have done the same for any new student in your predicament. I’m glad you like to read, the castle is filled with great books that you may enjoy.” Tom came over with drinks for them then. “Ah, my favorite.” Flitwick picked up his little cherry soda and took a sip. “Wonderful.”  


Hermione drank some of her own. They placed their orders when Tom next passed them by, then spent their time talking about the castle, the library and in particular, Ravenclaw Tower.  


“…and then I was told that I had better come quickly before the whole ceiling fell in. I was up out of bed in a flash and able to put it to rights but not before most of it was demolished.”  


Hermione was shocked. “They destroyed the ceiling?”  


“Most of it.” He looked remarkably cheerful in spite of this. “It’s the usual case. A student or two start an experiment, they rope others in, and the next thing you know, the ceiling is blow in, or everyone has blue and bronze hair. I always encourage creativity, but sometimes my students take things a bit too far.”  


Hermione barely noticed as her meal was placed in front of her. “No one was hurt though?”  


“Of course not,” Professor Flitwick told her. “I couldn’t possibly speak so calmly if any of my students got hurt.” He paused to take a bit of his chicken. “In Ravenclaw, you learn to deal with all possibilities. Many of the students like to experiment. I just make sure that they know they can come to me if anything is wrong. I won’t punish them. I just need to know everyone is okay.”  


Hermione began to eat as she considered this. The hat had once considered her for Ravenclaw. She had thought it put her in Gryffindor because that had been the house that she had wanted. Was her lack of interest in experiments the reason it hadn’t? Hermione didn’t feel very creative.  


“I know that my colleague Professor McGonagall understands me when I say that being gotten out of bed in the middle of the night by rowdy students is nothing strange,” Professor Flitwick continued. “Her Gryffindor students are always creating a ruckus.” He was far too kind and polite to say it, but Hermione could tell that they both thought the same thing. At least His students were learning when they did this.  
~~~~  


Hermione spent the rest of the summer at Hogsmeade in a room rented for her by Professor Dumbledore. She read through her school books, re-read Hogwarts, a History and the day before she was due to go back, packed and repacked her trunk no less than five times. It was nerve wracking; being aware that she was going back to school tomorrow and yet wouldn’t be seeing any of her classmates, but instead new faces.  


With a sigh she sank down on the bed. She wondered if they had realized what happened to her by now. Would anyone try to get her back from her own time? Would Dumbledore figure out a way to send her home?  


“I’m not going to worry,” she told herself. “Dumbledore will get me home. I’m sure of it.” The headmaster was the most brilliant wizard she knew. With him behind her she couldn’t fall to pieces.  
~~~  


It was a cool, crisp day when Hermione headed to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. The train was already making its way to the station, carrying with it the brand new students as well as the old. She thought longingly of her trips with her friends, with Harry and Ron, and Neville, Ginny and even Luna. What she wouldn’t give to be returning with them for a new year.  


She was met at the gate by the most wonderful sight she had seen in awhile. Hagrid’s bushy face was looking down at her, waiting to let her inside.  


“Yer Miss Perkins, are yeh?” He beamed at her, and then took her school trunk from her. “Yer early, so yeh’ll have ter wait before the sortin’” She followed him along the grounds, trying not to feel hurt by him not knowing her. It was expected and necessary, but that didn’t make her loneliness decrease at all.  


“Yeh’ll enoy Hogwart’s,” the half-giant encouraged her as they neared the front doors. “It’s the finest school in all o’ wizardin’ kind. I’m the groundskeeper here. The name is Rubeus Hagrid.”  


“It’s nice to meet you,” Hermione said softly as she followed him inside. “I can’t wait to start learning.”  


He grinned at her. “I heard old Flitwick took yeh to get yer school things. Sounds like somemit his students would say.” He brought her into a small antechamber behind the great hall. “Yeh’ll have to wait here. The headmaster says he’ll be down in a minute to talk with yeh. I’ve gotta go wait fer the first years down by the lake. Nice to meet yeh.”  


“Nice to meet you,” Hermione said again, nearly buckling as he patted her shoulder before leaving. She waited for what felt like an eternity before the doors behind her opened and the headmaster entered. He was wearing robes of deepest purple with a matching hat.  


“It’s good to see that you made it here in one piece, Miss Perkins,” he told her with a smile. “The students have just arrived in Hogsmeade and are any minute now to make their way up to the school. I must ask that you be patient for a little while longer.”  


“Yes sir.” She could hear the teachers filing into the Great Hall in preparation of the students and felt her heart thudding in her chest. It was almost like being a first year again, except this time she was going to be the odd one out, the older, new student amongst those who had already been there for five years and knew everyone.  


The headmaster had slipped quietly into the hall, leaving her alone with her thoughts. A chair had been conjured up beside her and she gratefully sat in it, staring at her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The noise from the Great Hall was getting louder, the students were here. It was barely a minute more before Dumbledore ushered her into the hall. Standing beside him, she could see students staring at her and exchanging curious looks with each other.  


A group of first years, led by Professor Mcgonagall, made their way into the hall then. Hermione saw her place the hat down but she was not listening to the song. Her eyes were looking through the hall, searching from table to table. Had she met any of these people as an adult?  


The hall had quieted considerably. The sorting had begun and the students were making their way forwards one at a time. As each one was sorted, their new housemates cheered and clapped. The list eventually wound its way to the last student and a silence filled the hall as Dumbledore got to his feet.  


“Welcome everyone! As you all may have noticed, we have a new student here with us today. Miss Rose Perkins has been home schooled for the past five years but will now be taking her place amongst our sixth year students. I hope that you will all do your best to make her feel at home.” When he had finished, he beckoned Hermione forward. She took her place once more under the sorting hat.  


‘Hello, haven’t I sorted you before? Yes, it’s all here. Now this is interesting. I’ve never had a time traveler before.’  


‘It was an accident.’  


‘Yes, but a rather reckless one, don’t you think. Yet, I can’t help but think your curiosity might pay off, somehow. There’s a very good mind here, plenty of intellectual interest, hmmm…I see...yes, I know what I must do with you…best of luck to you, better be…  


“RAVENCLAW!”  


The table to the right burst into cheers as Hermione took the hat off of her head. She headed over and took a seat towards the end across from several girls who looked to be her own age. One of them leaned over and shook her hand.  


“Great to have you,” the blonde smiled. “My name is Pandora Brightman. We needed more girls in our year. Ravenclaw only has three.” She gestured to the girl nearest her. “This is Aurora Sinistra.” A brunette with midnight-blue eyes grinned at her. “…and that’s Emmeline Vance.” A dark-haired witch with emerald green eyes nodded solemnly.  


Hermione smiled back. “It’s good to be here.” She glanced at Emmeline as she said this. This girl had died working for the order just a few weeks ago in her own time and yet here she was, not a day older than sixteen, sitting next to her future Astronomy professor. “I have heard a lot about Hogwarts.”  


“All good things, I’m sure,” Aurora said as she reached for a plate of chicken that had just materialized in front of her. “This is the best school there is for magic.” Her dark blue eyes had an almost faraway look in them as she glanced up at the sky. “I feel like in evenings like these, we are at the very center of the universe.”  


Pandora rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s not conceited.” She offered Hermione a grin. “You must excuse Aurora. She is always saying things like that.” She gave a dignified toss of the head, the effect of which was ruined by the fact that she was clutching at a chicken leg.  


“That’s alright, I feel a bit like that myself right now.” Hermione filled her plate with potatoes and lamb and started to eat.  


From across from her, Aurora offered Hermione a small smile. “You will like it here though. We have the best classes, the largest grounds and the most amazing castle. There are so many secrets to discover, I’m sure I haven’t found out half of them, and I’ve looked.”  


“It’s all she ever does,” Pandora added. “That and study.” She nudged her friend slightly. “You need to get a life Aurora.”  


“I live through you though,” Aurora replied sweetly. “The vicariousness you regularly display keeps me going.”  


Pandora rolled her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could swear she saw Emmeline smirking slightly. Feeling amused, Hermione concentrated on her meal. After filling herself, she glanced up at the High Table just in time to catch Professor Flitwick glancing her way. He beamed at her and then resumed his conversation with Professor McGonagall. The dinner soon gave way to desert and then the plates cleared just as Professor Dumbledore got to his feet.  


He gave his usual speech about the Forbidden Forest being out of bounds, reminded students about items that were banned (for both of these, Hermione noticed him throwing a glance at a rowdy-looking group of boys over at the Gryffindor table) and finished by welcoming them all and sending them off to bed. The sound of hundreds of students climbing to their feet and chattering amongst themselves could be heard as Hermione filed out with her new roommates.  


“We will make sure you don’t get lost your first week,” Pandora told her, linking her arm through Hermione’s. “After that you’re on your own.” Aurora laughed. The four made their way through the hall, up the stairs, up all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. The entrance was blocked not with a portrait, but with a bronze door knocker shaped like an eagle. A cool, musical sounding voice sounded from the knocker:  


‘What has four fingers and a thumb but is not living?’  


Hermione blinked. She had expected a password. It had never been said in Hogwarts, a History that the Ravenclaw common room required you to answer a riddle to get in.  


“It’s a corpse,” a little girl with pigtails had come up behind the group. Aurora and Pandora both shook their heads.  


“No, it’s a monkey,” a dark-haired boy beside her piped up. Pandora laughed. The little first year girl looked annoyed.  


“Monkeys are alive, idiot!”  


He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Then it’s a dead monkey.”  


Several more students had gathered around them. Hermione opened her mouth, an idea having come to her but Aurora shook her head. “Oh no, we always give the first years dibs the first week or so. How else will they learn?”  


From beside her several more first years had joined the group. Several looked worried, others interested. The older students who had gathered were watching closely.  


“A clock has fingers!”  


“No, it has hands,” a skinny blond boy piped up. “The answer is a glove!”  


‘Very good,’ the voice responded and just like that, the door opened into a wide circular room. As the students headed over the threshold, Hermione was looking around in interest. The ground was covered with deep blue carpet; the domed ceiling seemed encrusted with stars. Arched windows covered with light blue and bronze hangings were against the farthest wall and bronze doors off to each side led to the dorms.  


Hermione let the others pass her as she took in the various tables and chairs and the bookcases filled to the brim with books. She would love to look through their contents. Making her way towards one, she stopped by a white marble bust of a long-haired witch that she had seen in pictures of the founders: Rowena Ravenclaw.  


“Rose, over here!” Pandora and Aurora beckoned her over to where they were standing. She followed them upstairs and to an airy room with beds covered with blue sheets and bronze hangings. A small bookcase was next to each bed and several desks were up against the windows which were covered with light blue hangings.  


Hermione found her trunk at the foot of a bed near the windows. She found the pajamas she had purchased in Hogsmeade with her leftover school money. Settling into bed, she called her goodnights to her new roommates and was asleep almost instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

“How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another.”- Lewis Carroll.  


Chapter 3  


The next day found Hermione heading down to the Great Hall between the chattering Pandora and Aurora. They both seemed determined to have her as part of their group and as soon as she had finished dressing had steered her put of the dorm, Emmeline calling after them that she was going to be a bit late. Hermione was glad to have at least some people to talk to. She had been a bit worried that this was going to be like her first year before she had made friends with Harry and Ron, with her not quite fitting in.  


The weather was fine and the sky in the hall was a clear blue with a few wisps of clouds scattered here and there. The three girls took seats at the table and began grabbing food as they waited for Flitwick to bring their schedules over.  


“What classes are you taking, Rose?” Pandora asked as she poured herself some milk.  


“Potions, Herbology, Charms, Defense against the Dark Arts, Transfigration, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, “ Hermione replied as she placed eggs on her plate.  


Pandora nodded. “I’m taking all of that except for Arithmancy.”  


“I’m taking all of that except Potions,” Aurora replied. “My marks aren’t high enough. “I’m also taking Astronomy. I did the best in our year at that subject.”  


The tiny charms professor passed them then, carrying a large pile of parchment. ““Here you are, Miss Brightman and here is yours Miss Perkins and yours Miss Sinistra.” He said cheerfully, passing each around. “…and here is your, Miss Vance,” he added as Emmeline slid into a seat next to Hermione. The four girls leaned in and began examining their timetables.  


“We have Herbology first, then Potions,” Pandora announced as she looked first at her schedule, then at Hermione’s. She took a large sip of her milk, and then grabbed her bag. “Better get going then. We shouldn’t be late our first day.”  


Hermione and Aurora got to their feet to join her, but Emmeline, still working on her toast, merely waved them off. “She’ll catch up soon enough,” Pandora said as they left the hall. Several Ravenclaw boys in their year were leaving as well. As they entered the grounds, one of them fell into step with the girls.  


“So it’s Perkins, is it?” he said brightly as he walked beside Hermione. “I’m Charles Belby. It’s good to have some new faces in Ravenclaw.”  


“You mean some new girls to ogle,” Pandora said. “Go away Belby.”  


“She doesn’t mean that,” Belby assured Hermione. He smiled in an indulgent sort of way at Pandora. “I try to be friendly and she gets dark thoughts.”  


They were at the door to the greenhouse now. Aurora looked amused but Pandora was scowling. The professor, a stout man named Seedling, was making his way towards them. Unlocking the doors, he ushered them into the greenhouse, Emmeline slipping in just before the door was shut. Charles Belby gave another of his indulgent smiles, mouthed ‘we will talk later’ to Hermione and took a spot by a small group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff boys.  


The class was a decent sized one. A number of Hufflepuff’s and Ravenclaw’s had made it through as well as a small group of Gryffindor’s and two Slytherin’s. Hermione found herself looking around as she waited for the professor to begin the lesson.  


“Good morning class,” Professor Seedling began, “…it is good to see so many of you able take the N.E.W.T level course and a special welcome to Miss Perkins,” he added kindly, turning towards Hermione. “I hope you enjoy our school.”  


Hermione thanked him. He took roll call then and Hermione was startled out of her thoughts to hear the names of several people she had known, including Professors Lupin and Snape, as well as Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. The professor began assigning them pods and Lupin and Sirius turned away before she could get a good look at them but Severus Snape came to work at a pod right next to hers.  


He was a stringy looking boy, with shoulder length, oily dark hair and a hooked nose. The boy next to him, Avery, she thought the professor had called him, was looking around at the other students in disgust but Snape was merely scowling at his plant.  


“Pass me that bowl, will you?” Aurora said, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. She handed over the bowl they were supposed to be gathering seeds in. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought that Snape had glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as though he knew she was thinking of him. When she looked, however, he was staring in focus at his plant, his weedy arms attempting to prize it open.  


Hermione decided to stick to her plant. She was not going to get distracted her first day back.  


~~~ 

After Herbology, the girls cleaned up, and then Hermione, Pandora and Emmeline made their way down to the dungeons. Hermione was surprised to see that the door was already open. Heading inside, she could see several cauldrons set up on tables against the walls, the contents bubbling. Taking a seat next to a pearl colored potion emitting a delicious mix of smells, Hermione’s eyes widened. ‘Was that Amortentia?’  


Pandora sat next to her. Behind them Emmeline was sitting next to a dark-haired Ravenclaw boy who name Hermione didn’t know. A small group of Slytherin’s took the seats behind Emmeline including Snape and his Herbology partner, Avery. Across from her two girls, a blonde and a girl with dark-red hair were sitting. Hermione could see the sandy haired Lupin and a very good-looking young Sirius Black taking their seats next to, Hermione’s heart leapt, Harry’s father.

His eyes were different, and there was no scar on his forehead but there was no mistaking the thin face and messy dark hair. She felt a stab of homesickness as she thought of her friend and found herself wondering once more if she would ever see Harry or Ron again.  


A bald elderly wizard with a large gut made his way into the room then. He stood at the front of the class and beamed around at them all. His eyes eventually found Hermione. She couldn’t tell for sure, but he looked like he was sizing her up. He turned back to look at the class a moment later and began to speak.  


“Welcome back! It’s wonderful to see so many of my old favorites. Now let’s see, I see Avery, Aubrey, Black, Miss Brightman, Miss Evans, Lupin, Miss Macdonald, Mulciber, Potter, Miss Runcorn, Ryan, Miss Vance…” his gaze fell on Hermione again. “…and a new student, a Miss Rose Perkins, is it?” He beamed at her. “Excellent, I am Professor Horace Slughorn.” Professor Slughorn beamed at several of his old favorites then.  


“Yes, we will be going over a number of new potions today that you have not seen in your O.W.L classes. I will also be showing you some potions I have here already made.” He waved a hand around to the bubbling cauldrons. “They are much more complex to make but I won’t have you starting out with anything too hard. They are just to give you all an idea of what to expect. Now, can anyone tell me what this one is?” he asked, gesturing the pearl colored potion Hermione had been looking at earlier.  


Her hand shot in the air, as did Pandora’s and the red haired girl across from them. Professor Slughorn turned to Hermione. “Yes, Miss Perkins?”  


“It’s Amortentia,” she breathed, more certain than ever. “I can tell by the pearl color and spirals the steam rising from it are making.”  


Professor Slughorn looked impressed. “Exactly, very good. Now do you know what it does?”  


“It’s a love potion,” Hermione said. “The most powerful in the world.”  


“Very good, five points to Ravenclaw!” At several of the grinning boys, he added in a mock stern glare, “Now boys, you must not make light of how serious obsessive love can truly be.” He then gestured to a gold potion near the Gryffindor’s. “And this one, class?”  


Pandora did not raise her hand this time but Hermione did and so did the Gryffindor girl from before. Professor Slughorn called on Hermione once more. “Yes, Miss Perkins?”  


“It’s the luck potion, Felix Felicis.”  


“Take another five points, my dear!” He said, looking mightily impressed. He turned to the redhead then. “Miss Evans you may have a rival here in Miss Perkins. You too Snape.”  


Avery leaned in and whispered something undoubtedly nasty to Snape, whose expression remained blank. Evans did not look too upset. She looked curiously at Hermione for a moment before turning back to the professor. “I already have a rival though, I still have to become a better potions maker than you professor,” she said cheerfully.  


Professor Slughorn laughed. “Well said, my dear. You have two more years here, so maybe in time, eh?” He then turned towards Hermione. “I do wish you luck Miss Perkins, but perhaps you might get some today, as luck will be the reward of the best potion made in this class. I have,” he added, holding up a small bottle filled with the same golden liquid. “A bottle of Felix to give to whoever has the best potion today. The potion in question is the Draught of Living Death. Instructions are in your textbooks. You have an hour, so get to it!”  


Hermione opened her copy, found the potion and got up to get her ingredients. She returned them to her desk, placed them neatly beside her and then lit the cauldron. From beside her, Pandora was doing the same. She was busy chopping her ingredients when she heard Professor Slughorn turning to Evans.  


“I must say I expected that you and Severus Snape would be paired together. I hope nothing is wrong with my best potions students?”’  


Evans looked up from where she was cutting her roots. Her eyes were looking determinedly anywhere from either Slughorn or Snape. Hermione could not hear her answer, so low was it spoken, but she could see the edge with which the girls face was set. Professor Slughorn smiled fondly at her.  


“I’m sure that you two will be talking soon enough. Such old friends are likely to have little quarrels now and then.” Snape, Hermione noticed, had not looked up once. His face was completely blank but his hand was gripping his knife very tightly, the knuckles turning white.  


Hermione began placing her roots in her cauldron. It occurred to her that she had heard the name Evans somewhere before, but where she didn’t know. She worked in silence as steam began to lift into the classroom.  


It became apparent very soon that as well as Hermione was doing at the potion, and it was not an easy one to make, she was far outstripped by both Snape and Evans. The Potions Master made his way back and forth between the two of them more than any of the other students, making favorable remarks and smiling his jovial smile. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that each one seemed more and more focused on their work after he had spoken to the other.  


It seemed like no time at all that time was up and their cauldrons were being inspected. Hermione was given a warm smile and a “very good” but it was clear that this was a face-off between his two favorites and he saved them for last. He inspected first Evans potion and then Snape’s very carefully then straightened up. “I’m sorry Severus, but Lily’s is just a bit better. It reached the lighter color.” An indulgent smile was given to him before he stepped up to Lily Evans cauldron. “The winner and now owner of a bottle of dear Felix. Use it well Lily.”  


Though Sirius and James Potter were both throwing Snape amused looks, Lily Evans’ face was impassive as she took the bottle from him, her green eyes scanning its contents without enthusiasm. The class began to make their way out, Hermione included, Snape already having gathered his things and beaten them all to the door without a backward glance.  


As Hermione headed up to lunch with Pandora and Emmeline, it crossed her mind that she had never thought of Snape having friends before. He had always seemed like such an unpleasant, solitary person, never interested in what others thought of him. Were his school days responsible for him being the way he was?  


She dismissed the thought quickly. Snape surely had other friends, and from the way Sirius had once described them, they were all death eaters in the making.  


Pandora passed her a roll as she sat down. “It’s just Charms with Flitwick and then we have the rest of the day to ourselves,” she said. “Lucky too, or I’d never find time to do that essay Seedling is asking for.”  


“You might be off the rest of the day,” Aurora told her as she poured stew onto her plate, but I have Astronomy at midnight.”  


“Well you chose to take it,” Pandora replied. “I don’t mind,” Aurora told her. “Night time is the best part of the day. It’s when everything makes the most sense and all the inspiration comes to me.” She sighed dreamily. “If only we could sleep during the day and stay up during the night.”  


"You stay up all night anyways,” Pandora argued. “And keep me awake half the time.”  


Aurora began eating her stew, her mind far away from Pandora’s complaints. Hermione ate in equal silence with the taciturn Emmeline. Her eyes roamed the hall, taking in the deep-red hair of Lily Evans at the Gryffindor table, who was chattering animatedly with the blonde girl from potions class. Near to her sat James, Sirius and Lupin, along with a small blond boy with an anxious looking face who Hermione vaguely recognized from Herbology as Pettigrew. Sirius was saying something and James and Pettigrew were laughing. Lupin, however, was shaking his head at them.  


Hermione’s gaze passed quickly over the Hufflepuff table and to the Ravenclaw table to observe her new housemates. The dark-haired boy from first year and the girl with the pigtails were both arguing while several other first years were listening, clearly entertained. Hermione could not hear them but she thought they reminded her a bit of herself and Ron at that age. Another girl, a third or fourth year from the looks of her, was sitting by herself, shuffling a pack of cards and mouthing something. She was covered with an assortment of bangles and looked oddly familiar. On her other side sat a boy who looked to be a year or so younger than her. He was very handsome, with blond hair, blue eyes and very white teeth that he was admiring in a small mirror. Hermione thought her parents would have loved his teeth. The thought made her feel homesick.  


Next she observed the Slytherin table. Snape sat at the end across from Avery and another boy from potions class. They were talking to each other but Snape was concentrating on a book that he had open in front of him, not even bothering to eat. He was frowning in deep concentration. Hermione thought it might have been his potions book.  


A few seats away from them sat a light haired boy with freckles that was snickering and throwing glances at his fellow Slytherins, as though they were all the butt of the joke. His two companions, one just as light haired and the other dark-haired, were smirking.  


Hermione returned to her lunch. She was going to have to get to know a lot of new people over the next few days, but at the very least she shouldn’t have to worry about boys like that given that they were in a different house and year.  


It wasn’t until she was making her way back to Ravenclaw Tower with Pandora, Aurora and Emmeline to drop off their books and get their things for Charms that she remembered where she had heard the name Lily Evans before. It had been Harry’s mother’s name.  


‘Harry’s mother was once friends with Severus Snape?’


	4. Chapter 4

****

“Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” C.S. Lewis.

Chapter 4

It was a very tired Hermione who made her way to the library at the end of the day. She had three essays to work on, as well as several chapters to read and a chart for Arithmancy to complete and she had only gotten through the first week. She wasn’t the only one to be visiting the library. A number of seventh year Hufflepuffs had taken two tables near the back, a small knot of first year Ravenclaws were at another table nearby and several O.W.L level students had gathered at various tables. She made her way to an empty one near the window and placing her bag down beside her, sat down with a sigh.

“I believe you’re in my spot,” a cold voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up to find a haughty looking boy with dark hair glaring down at her. Hermione thought she might have seen him once or twice in the Great Hall.

Hermione didn’t budge. “Were you sitting here?”

“I was sitting there,” he gestured towards the seat beside her where a small book was lying. “I put that there to save the spot.”

“That spot maybe, but this chair is empty.” She was not going to be riled, not even if he was wearing a prefect’s badge.

His grey eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t mean you can sit at my table. I don’t need some Ravenclaw witch who’s probably no more than halfblood at best spoiling my studying with her presence.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, so this is your table? I’m sorry, I didn’t see the name ‘Arrogant Git’ written across it, my mistake; I’m just some little halfblood from Ravenclaw after all.” She began digging through her bag. “Seeing as I didn’t know, you will just have to excuse me while I do my homework.” With that said, she placed her potions textbook and some parchment in front of her. He was looking furious as she dug out ink and a quill.

He sat down next to her. Staring coldly at her for a minute, he said: “I could assign you a detention.”

“…and I could go to my head of house and tell him that a student is using his power as a prefect to bully students,” Hermione said calmly as she wrote.

“You called me a git.”

“Always a good reason to throw someone in detention.”

“It would be enough of one if you said it to a professor.” He had put his books on the table but wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were watching her.

“I imagine so, but I also imagine it isn’t standard for a professor to insult someone because of their blood status.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like I called you a mudblood.”

At that Hermione looked up. “No,” she said slowly. “If you did that, we wouldn’t still be talking. You wouldn’t be able to talk through the soap coming out of your mouth.”

His laugh was very nasty. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact.” Her voice was no louder than before but he could hardly fall to hear the venom behind the words. She looked into the arrogant face next to her and it struck her that his resemblance to the young Sirius Black that she had been seeing in class that week was uncanny. Could this be his brother that died, Regulus Black? “Your brother wouldn’t say a word like that. He knows better than to believe in nonsense like blood purity.”

His face flushed in anger. “My brother is a filthy blood traitor who turned his back on his own family!” He hissed. “He was born to the greatest, most noble family in the wizarding world and chose to throw away his birthright and consort with muggle lovers and filth.”

“You love that word filth,” Hermione said. “What makes a person who isn’t a pureblood filth?” She wondered if he really had any ideas about this or was just spouting off all of the nonsense he had been taught by said family.

Apparently her question only angered Regulus further. “Witches and wizards are more capable than muggles,” he told her. “Those who come from muggle families or spend time around muggles are destroying wizarding society by letting go of the old ways and mixing their blood, thus making for weaker witches and wizards. Everyone with a proper understanding of the wizarding world and its long and incredible history knows this.”

Hermione shook her head. “That doesn’t explain the large numbers or muggleborns and halfbloods that are immensely talented or the pureblood families that produce squibs.”

“The halfbloods are only powerful because of their wizarding blood,” Regulus told her. “As for the muggleborns, I have yet to see one that is worthy of being called ‘immensely talented.’”

Hermione would have liked to have pointed herself out but she couldn’t. Her disguise called for her to be a halfblood and it wasn’t like he would know enough about her to believe her talented anyways. “Lily Evans.”

“What, that mudblood that Potter is always chasing after?” He sneered contemptuously. “I see nothing talented or special about her.”

“Snape certainly does and so does Professor Slughorn. She is one of the best in his class as well as in Charms.”  His face grew even more furious at this.

“Slughorn is a senile old fool, thinking that muggleborns are all fine and dandy, as though they weren’t a corrupting influence. What do you expect from him, or the part goblin, Flitwick?”

Hermione had completely abandoned her homework by now. Even her grades seemed unimportant compared to this wizard sitting by her, not a day older than fifteen and yet spewing the prejudiced remarks that he must have been raised with from the cradle.

“It doesn’t change the fact that she’s a good student. Not everyone who sees that can be a fool.” She began to gather her things. This conversation was going nowhere but it was starting to drag down her mood. That the wizarding world could accept and aid the growth of such prejudiced beliefs…

Hermione got to her feet. “It’s best that we don’t discuss this as neither of us can be made to agree.” She slung her bag over her shoulder.  “Oh, and Black?” she added, turning towards the dark-haired wizard, who looked smug at her getting up.

“Yes.” He smirked at her.

“Scourgify. A jet of light flew from the tip of her wand and hit him in the mouth. Immediately, soap bubbles began to flow past his lips. Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the library, leaving him there to cancel the spell himself.

~~~

Regulus was true to his word and soon Hermione found herself being cheerfully informed by Filch that she would be having detention with him the next night at nine. She took this fairly calmly, seeing as she had actually attacked a fellow student and one younger than herself at that. The only dilemma was getting through her homework which was starting to pile up. Luckily Hermione was not for nothing the brightest witch of her age.

“You’re definitely a Ravenclaw,” Pandora observed from her chair as she watched Hermione write at one of the desks in their dorm. “No one else could get through the type of work you do except a Ravenclaw.”

Hermione bit back a smile. She remembered how puzzling all of her fellows in Gryffindor had always found her. Finishing the last of her assignments, she placed the cap back on her ink bottle and got up and stretched. It was almost nine already and Filch would kill her if she were late. She said goodbye to the others and headed out of the dorm. She walked past several Ravenclaws studying in the common room and several others thinking up riddles and made her way out of the portrait hole.

It was just nine when she met Filch in the entrance hall, his cat, a Madame Defarge, apparently, was right next to him. Madame Defarge hissed softly as Hermione neared.

“So it’s you, is it,” he leered at her. “I thought you were trouble from the moment I saw you, but Dumbledore is always too soft with the students. They should bring back some of the old punishments for the likes of you.” He motioned for her to follow him. “It’s the trophy room for you. Peeves made a mess in there and you’re going to make sure that everything is back in place, and then clean everything so it’s good and shiny.”

Hermione fought back a groan. That would take hours.

“And you’re going to do it all without magic of course,” Filch added nastily as they headed up the stairs. Several ghosts, including the Fat Friar were heading down in their direction. Hermione shivered slightly as one of them brushed against her, wrapping her robes more tightly around her for warmth.

Filch dropped her off at the trophy room and to Hermione’s disgust, left his cat there to watch her as she worked. She set to work, picking up fallen medals and torn down plaques, as Madame Defarge watched her with unblinking eyes, hissing softly whenever she came too near.

She worked in silence, putting things right and polishing each object. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts, and at the very least the busywork was giving her the time to work things out.

It was very strange to be seeing people that she knew were long dead: Harry’s parents, who didn’t seem to get along very well, quiet Emmeline, who had died only weeks before she had gone back in time and Sirius, whose death had shaken Harry so very badly…

Turning over one of her rags, she found herself wiping the reward Tom Riddle had been given years ago for saving the school. How bitter it made her feel, that he had killed a girl just for being muggleborn and framed Hagrid for it all.

The trophy was the last thing she cleaned that night. It was with an equal mix of pleasure and exhaustion that she was dismissed by Filch and allowed to go to bed. Hermione made her way towards Ravenclaw Tower, stifling a yawn as she went. She wondered vaguely if any of the Marauders were engaging in their midnight strolls.

She reached the entrance to the common room and knocked on the eagle. At once the musical sounding voice began speaking: ‘ _What falls but never breaks and what breaks but never falls?’_

Hermione blinked. “What falls but never breaks and what breaks but never falls? That sounds like yin and yang.” She thought for a moment. “Let’s see…it couldn’t be temperature, no this is two things, I think…yin and yang, yin and…” She bit her lip. “Let’s see, what breaks: clocks, people’s hearts, and the day…daybreak?” The door remained silent. “Daybreak, snow falls, the night falls…” Hermione looked up at the door. “Is it night and day?”

“Well thought out,” the voice replied coolly and the door swung forward. Hermione trooped wearily inside, feeling beyond tired. Once inside her dorm she undressed quickly and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

~~~

Hermione found the next week pass by in a whirl of classes. She still had McGonagall and Flitwick for professors, but almost all of her other teachers were different. Professor Seedling was nice enough, and the Arithmancy witch, Professor Gosling was nice, but her ancient runes professor was more than a little sullen and her Defense professor, a witch called Madame Marchbanks, though clearly competent, had really only taken the job as professors for it were running scarce. She was only staying for the year as a favor to Dumbledore.

It was her potions class that proved the most dynamic however. Professor Slughorn was as jovial as ever, but it was clear that he played favorites. Lily Evans and Severus Snape, both the best in class, were the top favorites, his attention often directed towards one or the other. He did seem to like Hermione as well though, as she received an invite to a dinner he was holding the following weekend.

“It’s the Slug Club,” Pandora told Hermione as they headed to lunch. “He gives it for all of the students he thinks are special, the talented, and the well connected.” She shook her head. “I’ve been to several of those and they are dead boring, all about him boasting about the famous people he’s helped over the years.”

They took their seats next to the already eating Aurora. “I suppose I will have to go though.” Hermione said as she fixed her plate. “It’d be rude not to.”

“You should take a date,” Pandora told her. She gestured around the table. “There are several other Ravenclaws in that little club. Just pick one and make sure it’s not Belby,” she added, she gaze darkening as Charles Belby swaggered over to the table with some friends.

Hermione blushed. “I don’t even know anyone.”

Aurora’s eyes sparkled. “You don’t have to even take a Ravenclaw. Remus Lupin is a member as well.”

Pandora shook her head fondly. “She fancies him,” she told Hermione. The three looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Lupin was laughing at a joke James had just told.

“You could do worse,” Pandora admitted as Aurora continued to watch him.

Hermione thought about it. “I’ll pass thanks.” She was not going to be wasting her time dating when she should be concentrating on keeping up her grades and waiting for Professor Dumbledore to find a way to send her back.

Just then, Regulus Black entered the Great Hall with his friends. Hermione felt a brief rush of annoyance at the sight of him, laughing and acting smug as he glanced around him with haughty superiority. His gaze landed on hers and his smirk seemed to freeze as he regarded her with a particular look of dislike.

Hermione turned back to her meal with a frown. She finished her meal, listening to Pandora and Aurora discussing an experiment Pandora was working on. She was trying to charm her books to sing when they got lost or ended up in the wrong hands. Aurora was suggesting a number of outlandish Wizarding and Muggle songs and Pandora was taking notes of ones she thought had possibilities. It was easier for Hermione to join in with them as they left the hall for Charms class, the ideas of Regulus Black and Remus Lupin leaving her mind.

~~~

Hermione found that studying in the Ravenclaw common room could sometimes be just as distracting as Gryffindor Tower. Small explosions were perfectly normal and it was not unusual for students to be practicing Charm work like Pandora’s or something more complex. She found herself one day sitting in a blue armchair, a book in her lap, watching an experiment unfold.

“If we just concentrate a little harder on the lighter object, it should be fine,” a black girl from seventh year said confidently. “The colors should mesh nicely.”

The boy she was talking to, the dark-haired Ravenclaw boy Andrew Ryan from Hermione’s potions class aimed his wand at the ink in front of him. It swelled impressively and then the color began to change, first yellow, than bronze, then green.

“Right, now let’s combine them,” she gave a flick of her own wand and the ink swirled into the newly colored jar she had before her. “There.” She looked up proudly. “We now have a year’s supply of color changing ink.” She grinned at Ryan.

“It always saves money that way,” he explained to Hermione. “Me and Trixie make all of our school things that way.”

Hermione felt impressed. “All of them?”

The quills are easy,” Trixie told her. “Color changing ink can be a bit harder to charm but we have regular ink of all colors down to a science.”

“Parchment is annoying to make,” Ryan admitted. “And Trixie still can’t get over using the animals for it.”

“I like using paper more,” Trixie said. “That’s one thing I could never get used to in the wizarding world. My parents are muggles and they send me paper to write my notes on.”

“I prefer paper too,” the little first year from the first night at the portrait hole, Justin Dernby agreed from where he was playing chess with the first year girl, Samantha Carter.

Hermione had never thought too deeply about it. Being in Ravenclaw made one consider all sorts of ideas that she had not taken the time to consider before.

Aurora slid into a chair beside her. “What’s that you’re reading? Something good, I hope?” She glanced with slight dislike at the cover of _Hogwarts, a History._ “Don’t you ever read any book just for enjoyment, Rose? Some wizarding or even Muggle literature?”

“I enjoy reading _Hogwarts a History_ ,” Hermione told her.

“I enjoyed the _Alice_ books when I was younger,” Aurora said from where she was sitting on the floor. “I used to wish I was Alice when I was little. Or maybe Dorothy Gale?” She looked at Emmeline, who was studying her notes in an armchair near the fire, her feet tucked underneath her. “What do you like to read, Emmeline?”

Hermione didn’t hear Emmeline’s answer. A loud bang had sounded from the corner where a small group of second years were practicing, startling her. Several of the students in the common room jumped, though most were laughing. One or two of the upper years got up to help out with the project at hand, probably to prevent the common room from being demolished.

Pandora shook her head. “They’ll destroy the room one of these days.”

“So will you with your own experiments,” Aurora grinned at her. “They are just like mini-you.”

As the two settled into an old but friendly argument, Hermione looked back at her book. She thought there was something enjoyable in the constant presence of books and learning that she was now always surrounded with and it made her feel proud to be a Ravenclaw.

**~~~**

 

 


	5. Law of Human Action

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate; to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Chapter 5  


Hermione was writing a letter. She bent over her parchment, her quill scratching away as she worked. Outside the library, rain was pouring down with a particular intensity, occasionally punctuated by the sound of thunder. The library was packed with students who, unable to go outside were using the rest of the rainy Sunday afternoon to catch up with studying and homework.  


Hermione finished the letter and looked it over. Dumbledore had encouraged her to write a letter to her “father” telling him about school every now and then. It would be brought up to Dumbledore’s office and he would pen a reply a short while later, disguising his handwriting for safety reasons. She understood the necessity of not arousing interest, but it still gave her heart a pang to consider that she couldn’t write to her real parents.  


‘They should have just gotten married this month,’ she thought gloomily. ‘Just married and not a clue that their teenage daughter was in Scotland. And that she might never see them again.’  


It was with a heavy heart that she folded up the letter. She would bring it to Dumbledore tomorrow.  


At the table next to her, a group of Hufflepuff girls were giggling, occasionally casting wary looks at the forbidding looking Madame Pince. Other tables were occupied with studying or talking students, the later the recipients of a large number of pointed glares from the school librarian. The table on her other side was receiving the largest amount of any of them, as it had Harry’s father and his friends sitting at it.  


“I can’t believe we got two weeks detention,” James was saying. “Aubrey’s head was back to normal in about five minutes.”  


“That Professor Seedling had got it in for us because Aubrey is a Hufflepuff,” was Sirius’s answer. His handsome face was his brother’s equal in haughtiness.  


Lupin looked less convinced. “You really shouldn’t have done it,” he said. “Especially not where Professor Seedling could see you.” Ignoring Sirius’s glare, he turned back to his homework. “I still have an Arithmancy essay to write,” he said quietly. “I can’t leave it all for next week.”  


“You still have a week before the full moon though,” Pettigrew piped up, his voice carrying. Lupin looked up in alarm.  


“Keep your voice down,” His eyes were quickly scanning the library. When they passed Hermione, she was unable to hide the fact that she was watching them, and nervously gave a smile she hoped seemed encouraging and unsuspicious.  


Hermione wasn’t sure but she thought he might have flushed slightly, his gaze averting hers. She turned back to her books with a frown. Did Remus Lupin not like her?  


Hermione had barely spoken to any of them since coming back in time. She hated admitting it, but with the exception of Lupin, they were all rather low on her list of favorite people in this time period. Sirius and James were arrogant and careless, with a bad habit of hexing students who annoyed them and Pettigrew did little more than follow their lead, apparently not confident enough to stand on his own. Looking back at Harry and Ron, she thought they seemed almost mature by comparison.  


Over at the next table, Lupin and Pettigrew were having a quiet but furious looking argument. James appeared to be trying to referee them but Sirius was ignoring them, apparently thoroughly bored by the whole situation.  


Hermione’s eyes narrowed as his gaze followed a lone Slytherin who had just entered the library. Severus Snape had disappeared behind the bookshelves. Without a word to the others, Sirius got up quietly and headed towards the books and out of sight.  


It took Hermione less than a minute to climb to her feet and follow. She spotted Sirius making his way towards where Snape was searching through a shelf on potions, his back to them.  


“What are you looking for, Snivellus? Books on how to shrink your nose so it’s a normal size? I don’t think they’ve invented advanced enough magic for that.”  


Snape whirled around so fast his back hit the shelf with a sharp thud. His wand was out in a flash. Sirius just looked at him and laughed quietly.  


“Relax Snivellus, we are in the library. Pince would have a fit if you used magic in here.” His arrogant face was alive with mischief as he eyed the stringy-looking Slytherin.  


Hermione chose that moment to intervene. “Severus, I’ve been waiting for you.” Both Sirius and Snape looked at her in surprise. “You promised to help me with my Potions essay, remember?”  


Snape eyed her wearily. Sirius for his part looked unconvinced. “Why would you want to work with a greasy git like him?” he asked.  


“He happens to be one of the best of our year at Potions,” Hermione replied sweetly. “Really Black, if you spent less time fooling around in class, you might have noticed that.” She motioned for Snape to follow her. “Come on Severus, I got us a table.”  


Snape hesitated, and then followed her, throwing a malevolent look at Sirius as he passed that was returned with interest. It wasn’t until they had been sitting for a minute or so and Hermione had pulled out her half-finished potions essay that he spoke up.  


“I don’t need you to defend me.” His voice was very low. Hermione had to lean in to hear him.  


“I’m not defending you, I’m asking for your help with my Potions homework,” Hermione told him.  


His reply was swift in coming. “And why would I help you?”  


“Well,” Hermione began slowly, “I would imagine you wouldn’t want them to know that a Ravenclaw girl come to your defense just because she pitied you….and I really do need help on my Potions essay,” she finished, inching the essay towards him.  


He took it, still glaring, and began to look it over. “It’s all technically correct,” he told her after he had pushed it aside. “But it’s very formal. It’s like you copied it all down word for word from the textbook. The entire thing is too stilted. It’s not how I would have written it.” He pulled out a spare bit of parchment and began to write. As he worked, Hermione noticed that Remus Lupin was looking with some surprise their way.  


“You should squeeze the juice out of the roots,” he pointed to an entry. “That’s the best way to get the flavor. We worked that out last year. It saves lots of time.”  


“We?” Hermione asked in surprise.  


His face turned very dark. “I meant to say me,” he said unconvincingly. “I worked that out last year.”  


Hermione nodded. She had a feeling that she knew who “we” included, but it was not her place to say anything. The two bent their heads over the parchment, Snape making suggestions and pointing out places where her essay was too close to the book. She read over her notes and polished her essay, noting with some relief that the marauders left soon after she and Snape had taken seats together.  


9  


The following weekend was set to be a busy one. Professor Slughorn’s party was that Friday, and the first Quidditch match of the year, Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin, was that Saturday morning. Hermione found herself being steered in front of a mirror Friday afternoon after class while Aurora fussed over her.  


“Your curls are falling nicely,” she told Hermione. “Like tightly coiled springs.”  


Pandora rolled her eyes. “It only took about an hour to get them that way. Lucky it’s fashionable to be late.”  


Aurora looked unperturbed. “They bounce.”  


Hermione felt uncomfortable. “I don’t need bouncing hair, but thank you Aurora.” She took a step back from the mirror and smoothed down her blue dress. “How do I look besides, ‘bouncing curls?’  


“Very good.” Pandora was nodding in approval. “I thought that dress would look nice on you.” She linked her arm through Hermione’s. She would be going as Hermione’s “date.”“We should be heading down now.” Hermione thanked Aurora and the girls headed out of the dorm and through the Ravenclaw common room. Emmeline, who was sitting in an armchair, working on homework, nodded coolly as they passed her.  


Down to the dungeons they headed, where the door to Professor Slughorn’s office door was opened. A small group of students were already there, including Lily Evans, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin and to Hermione’s disgust, Regulus Black.  


The Slytherin threw Hermione a withering glare as she sat down at a seat the Potions Master indicated. Pandora took the seat to her left. To her right, Lupin gave her a weak smile. She felt a pang of sympathy when she considered that there was a full moon that weekend.  


Professor Slughorn was wearing bright green robes with silver lining. He beamed around at them all. They were sitting at a round table, so everyone could clearly see the others. Lily smiled at both Hermione and Lupin, while Snape ignored everyone.  


“Now let’s see? Professor Slughorn said cheerfully. “I have all of my favorites here. Lily, Severus, Dirk,” he flashed a handsome seventh year boy sitting on Lily’s right a large smile. He nodded to several other students before turning to Hermione with a look of interest.  


“And now Miss Perkins! You have been doing splendidly in my class and it’s only your first year at Hogwarts. Your parents must have taught you well.”  


Hermione fought back the heavy feeling in her stomach as she answered. “Well my mother homeschooled me and she’s always been very particular about my education. My father helps where he can but there is not much he can do as he is not a wizard.”  


“Ah yes,” Slughorn said good-naturedly. “There are many talented halfblood witches and wizards. “Just look at young Severus here.” He gestured towards Snape, who did not look happy to be dragged into the conversation.  


Snape was a halfblood? Hermione thought.  


Regulus and his friends were snickering. Slughorn frowned at them.  


“Now Regulus, Barty, Evan, you mustn’t be like that. Why I’ve known many a talented halfblood or even muggleborn” He said cheerfully. “Look at our Miss Evans and Mr. Cresswell.” Dick Cresswell looked pleased but Hermione thought Lily was starting to look uncomfortable.  


“Now you shouldn’t categorize us so quickly,” she told him. “I’m sure there are muggleborn students who are prats, to match the pureblood ones.” She gave a cold smile to Regulus and his friends, who had stopped snickering.  


Professor Slughorn laughed. “Too true Lily. You always have such a cheeky way of stating your point,” he said, looking fondly at her. “So Miss Perkins,” he continued, turning back to Hermione. “What made your mother decide to send you here when she was doing so splendid a job educating you?”  


Hermione focused her attention on her hands. She could feel all of the eyes in the room on her. “Well you see, my mother passed away this summer,” she said quietly.  


“How dreadful,” Slughorn murmured, shaking his bald head. “Very dreadful.” Remus Lupin and Lily Evans both looked sympathetic, while Pandora had squeezed her hand under the table. “Well at the very least, you have the benefit of receiving a Hogwarts education.” He then turned his attention to the others. “Now I’m sure everyone is hungry, so let’s eat!”  


He clapped his hands and platters of food appeared in front of them. Hermione began to fill her plate as the room filled with chatter and the clink of knives and forks.  


“I’m a halfblood too,” Lupin told her as she cut up her steak. “It’s the other way around though with me. I have a muggle mother and a wizard father. They have been married for twenty years now.” He placed some potatoes on his plate.  


“My parents have been married just as long,” Hermione said. “Or at least they were.” She stared down at her vegetables in discomfort.  


“Mine are half and half too,” Pandora said. “Muggle mother, wizard father.” She lowered her voice then. “Some people think that they are better than others because they can trace the witches and wizards back through the centuries in their families.” Hermione did not need to look up at her to know that she was glaring at Regulus and his friends, who were making it a point to only talk to each other, though they were occasionally throwing dirty looks at Lily, who was talking to Slughorn, and Dirk, who was talking to another seventh year.  


“I heard you got detention for hexing Regulus Black,” Cresswell suddenly said, turning to Hermione. “Well done.”  


Regulus’s head shot up. Hermione pretended not to see him as she answered Cresswell. “I was just trying to improve his vocabulary,” she told him. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Black glaring. “It’s appallingly rude.”  


Cresswell grinned. “We Ravenclaw’s often get called on to help educate our fellow students,” he said sagely, “especially the less enlightened ones.” Pandora nearly choked on her butterbeer. If Professor Slughorn weren’t still there, Hermione was sure that a fight would have broken out. She watched as Evan Rosier muttered something undoubtedly vicious to Regulus who nodded, still staring at Hermione.  


Hermione felt a grim satisfaction at the boy’s anger. After years of being called a mudblood, she took her victories where she could get them.  


9  


The next day was bright and cold. Hermione, decked out in Ravenclaw colors, made her way down to the stands with the girls from her dorm. The conditions were very good for flying she heard Belby say as he passed them in the common room. He was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but he seemed unconcerned about running late.  


The girls found their way to the Ravenclaw section and grabbed seats. The area was packed, with most of the students wearing blue and carrying blue and bronze flags. Professor Flitwick, Hermione noticed, was wearing robes that flashed blue and bronze and carrying a bronze flag that was almost as big as his body.  


The Slytherin team, dressed in green robes, came out onto the pitch. The Slytherin’s cheered their loudest, trying to drown out the boos and hisses heard from the other houses. Regulus Black, Hermione noticed, was among them. His haughty face was smirking up at the crowd, apparently unconcerned by all the hostility.  


The Ravenclaw team, led by Belby, headed out to much louder applause and cheers. A number of first and second year Ravenclaws were jumping up and down in their seats.  


The two captains stepped forward and shook hands at Hooch’s command and the game began as fourteen brooms lifted into the air. Even Hermione found her interest lifting as she watched them.  


Regulus Black was a very good flyer, she reluctantly noticed, probably as good as Harry. He flew one way and than the other, goading the Ravenclaw seeker, a boy called Kessler, into following him. The announcer, a boy from Gryffindor whose name Hermione didn’t know, was eagerly recounting the match.  


“And it’s Belby with the quaffle. Belby heads down to the Slytherin goal post, he shoots, ah it was blocked…”  


The Slytherin’s let up a cheer that the Ravenclaw’s matched with groans. Belby zoomed off after the quaffle, the announcer keeping pace.  


“Belby is in hot pursuit of Avery. Avery is making his way past Ryan, hit him with a bludger someone! Ah, that MUST have hurt.”  


Avery shook his head to try and clear it. He had lost the quaffle and Ryan had grabbed it. Into the Slytherin goal posts it went. A cheer went up from the blue and bronze supporters as Ravenclaw scored the first points of the game.  


Hermione cheered along, watching as the blue and green players soared back and forth. Next to her Pandora was watching avidly while on her other side Aurora was making her own observations on the game.  


Macnair has the quaffle in his possession. He shoots, damn it, he scores!” He cursed loudly. McGonagall threw him a stern look reminiscent of the ones Hermione had seen her throw Lee Jordan in her own time.  


And on it went, the players flying back and forth, the quaffle and bludgers soaring through the air and the cheers and boos that went up whenever a team scored.  


After about a half hour into the game, with both teams tied, Regulus entered into a dive. Kessler followed on his heels, eager to catch him. The two were neck and neck as they flew downwards. Their hands were out; each was ready to shove the other off his broom if they had to.  


It was close but with a great display of agility and flight, Regulus Black tore back up into the air, the fluttering snitch grasped in his hand, and a smirk of triumph on his face as the Slytherin roared their approval amidst the boos and hisses.  


Hermione sighed. Well at least she had gotten him good herself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who commented or bookmarked this work. This work is going to be a long one, with a slow burn and plenty of non-Hermione/Regulus romance. The relationship, as it is between the two leads is hostile and will be that way for some time. It's a long build up but I think that should make it all the more worth it in the end.

“The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.” Virginia Woolf.  


Chapter 6  


“I don’t know,” Hermione said in frustration, running her fingers through her bushy hair. “Food could be the answer, a drink.” The door remained closed. “That all ends up gone when you share it!”  


The door remained stubbornly closed. Hermione, needing her Potions text, remained rooted to the spot. “I…” She was blanking for some reason.  


“It’s a secret.”  


Hermione turned to face Emmeline Vance. She had not heard the other witch approach.  


“It’s a secret,” Emmeline said again. She was watching Hermione closely. “The answer, that is.”  


“Well reasoned.” And with that the door opened.  


“Thank you,” Hermione said.  


“It’s not a problem. The two headed inside together. Trixie waved at Hermione as she passed by her. Her Potions book was on her top bookshelf next to One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. She placed it in her bag and headed out of Ravenclaw Tower.  


Hermione arrived in the library to find Snape already waiting for her. He was writing in what looked to be his potions text, occasionally crossing something out as he went. She slid into a seat across from him and pulled out her book.  


“You’re late.” He didn’t even bother looking up.  


“Yes well…” she wasn’t exactly going to tell him that she had trouble getting into her common room.  


“If you’re going to take this seriously, you can’t be late. I’m not wasting my time.” He still didn’t look up.  


“I’m sorry.”  


“You should be.”  


Trying a different tactic, she pulled out her notes. “Now I know you say that the Dreamless Sleep potion is more effective if you crush the lavender instead of slicing it but the book says…”  


“Forget what the book says.” He had finally looked up. “I’m not interested in what an outdated Potions text says. My potions are improvements over the solutions given there.”  


“Are you planning on getting published after you leave school?” Hermione asked him.  


Snape narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think that my future ambitions should concern you, Perkins.” He gestured towards her notes. “If I didn’t think you knew what you were doing, then I wouldn’t be telling you this. As it is, you make an above-average potions student who could improve if she got her head out of her books and actually learned a thing or two about the art of potions and the many alternatives there are to the norm.”  


Hermione decided to just take the compliment and ignore the insult. “Why don’t you publish? It will help you make a name for yourself.”  
“I happened to prefer to keep my inventions to myself,” he answered coldly.  


Hermione wondered how much of that was due to the fact that he was gearing towards becoming a Death Eater. She briefly considered the idea of trying to intervene in his decision before deciding to let it drop. He was not going to listen to her and she was not supposed to meddle with time anyways.  


They leaned in, discussing the potion in low voices. He explained the benefits of crushing the lavender over chopping it, went over the good that clockwise stirs mixed in with counter-clockwise stirs would do, and discussed different heating temperatures. They talked for so long that it was beginning to get dark by the time they had made their way through all of his notes.  


“It’s really simple,” Snape finished as he placed his notes back in his bag. “The potion is able to be vastly improved by…” he trailed off suddenly, his dark eyes narrowing. Hermione, looking up, saw Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew entering the library together.  


Lupin it seemed was looking for a book. He had been doing a lot of reading lately, Hermione had noticed. She did not know enough about him as an adult to know if that was normal for him. They settled into seats nearby, Lupin searching through a textbook while Pettigrew looked around the room, clearly bored.  


It took only a second before his blue eyes met her brown ones. Smirking slightly, he nudged Lupin. His friend seemed determined to ignore whatever he was currently whispering, but Hermione could see that Lupin was frowning.  


Hermione’s attention was drawn away from them by the sound of a book snapping shut. She turned to see Snape had finished packing his things and gotten to his feet. “I’ll see you in class.” With that he walked out of the library. Hermione hesitated, her eyes briefly flickering on Lupin, who was still reading his book and Pettigrew, who was looking at her in an aggravatingly superior way.  


She shoved her things into her bag and headed out, ignoring the two boys as best she could.  


9  


The weeks had flown by and it was already October. The temperature had dropped, the trees turning gold, orange and red. Hermione, who had always enjoyed the fall, would take her things outside as often as the weather permitted, sometimes accompanied by Aurora, who had a great love of nature, or Emmeline, who enjoyed lying under the changing trees.  


The coursework was trickier than ever, with the students now practicing nonverbals in Charms, D.A.D.A and Transfiguration, and Hermione having advanced Arithmancy problems to work out and complex potions to make as well. When homework, the occasional letters to write and another Slug Club dinner were added in, it was with a complete loss of the time and some wonder that Hermione saw an announcement going up for the first Hogsmeade weekend.  


Aurora and Pandora left Charms talking excitedly about what they were going to do in Hogsmeade. Hermione started to catch up with them when a gentle tap on her shoulder made her stop.  


“Rose.” It was Remus Lupin. “Could I have a minute?”  


Feeling confused, Hermione nodded. “Of course.” They walked down the hall, avoiding the passing students. When Lupin was sure that no one was in earshot, he began.  


“Well there is a Hogsmeade trip this Saturday,” he said. “I heard Brightman and Sinistra telling you about it and well….I was wondering if you had any plans in particular.”  


Hermione’s confusion gave way to understanding at once. “I thought I would go but I don’t have any particular plans.”  


Lupin nodded, his eyes boring into hers as though nervous to look away. He was biting his lip hard. “Well, I wouldn’t mind showing you around your first time…if that’s okay.” He added quickly.  


Hermione smiled at him. “It would be great, thanks Remus.”  


Lupin looked surprised for an instant, then delighted. “Alright,” he said grinning. “Thanks..er…I mean I’ll meet you in the entrance hall then. See you later then.” He walked quickly away, leaving Hermione to shake her head after him. He was at least better at this sort of thing than Ron.  


9  


If Hermione was going to spend all of Saturday enjoying herself in Hogsmeade, then she was going to catch up on all of her homework on Friday. So after dinner saw her back at her favorite haunt in the school: the library.  


Unfortunately it was not long before her work was interrupted by the very unwelcome sight of Regulus Black entering the library, clutching a book under one arm. He stopped next to her table, his look malicious.  


“That is still my table.”  


“Well it doesn’t have your name on it,” Hermione told him. “And at any rate you didn’t even put a book down to hold your place this time.” She eyes the book under his arm critically. 

“What’s that? A how to guide for dark wizards in the making?”  


Regulus laughed coldly. “It figures that you would be afraid of a little dark magic.” Much to Hermione’s displeasure, he slid into a seat across from her.  


“When I have any idea of what things like that could do; then yes, I find it frightening. As well as a little distasteful.” She grimaced at the thought of the battle at the ministry.  


“Has Perkins been frightened by a little curse of two?” He was smirking.  


“It’s more than a little curse or two when people’s lives get put at stake.”  


“It depends on what sort of people we are talking about.” His eyes were like ice.  


“It’s the old argument, isn’t it?” Hermione asked in anger. “That Muggles and Muggleborns don’t really matter and its okay to curse them.”  


Regulus was still smirking. “Well you said it, not me.”  


“You know what I think,” Hermione said coldly, “I think you have no idea what you are talking about. I could come up with numerous muggleborn witches and wizards who are talented but you won’t listen. I could also come up with many important things that come from muggles but you won’t listen to that either because you’re too determined to believe that everyone who isn’t just like you is inferior.”  


His look was incredulous. “And Muggles aren’t inferior?”  


“No!” She was struggling to keep her voice from rising. Madame Pince would murder her. “They have invented many incredible things that wizards take for granted.”  


“Name one.”  


She would name many. “The train you use to go to school. The radio that the Wizarding Wireless is adapted from for another thing. Modern plumbing.”  


“We wouldn’t need to use the train if we weren’t all in hiding,” he told her. “There could be less security if a large portion of it weren’t spent hiding from the muggles.”  


“Rugs. The Knight Bus…”  


“Which no one I know uses.” He shot back.  


“Novels.” She was delighted to see him pause. “Are you a reader, Regulus Black?”  


“I would never read anything written by a muggle or mudblood,” Regulus said with a look of distaste. That still didn’t answer the question and he knew it.  


“It’s too bad,” Hermione told him. She began to gather her things. “Some of the best fantasy books come from muggles. I’d write you a list if I thought you wouldn’t throw it away.” With that said, she walked out of the library, leaving him to his less than pleasant thoughts.  


9  


It was chilly but bright out the next day, reasonably good conditions for a trip to the village. Hermione was cheered by this thought as she and Lupin left the castle.  


Hermione felt slightly nervous as they walked, her hand kept reaching up to tug at a stray strand of hair. She was on a date with her ex-Defense teacher. Granted it was twenty years in the past and he was no older than her here but it was still something she had never expected she would have to deal with. She had not meant to get involved in anything vaguely romantic but she had already gone back on her word.  


Remus Lupin looked just as nervous. He talked about Quidditch, the Hogwarts grounds; she thought she even heard him starting to bring up the weather at one point before falling silent.  


The village at long last came into view. Hermione smiled at the sight. “It’s beautiful.”  


“It is very nice,” he told her. “My friends and I always make sure to hit all of the big shops like Zonko’s and the Three Broomsticks for a drink.” He grinned. “There’s this young barmaid who just started there last year named Rosmerta, Sirius is always trying to flirt her up.”  


Hermione laughed. “I can see him doing that. It sounds like you guys have a lot of fun.”  


“With James and Sirius, that’s largely what life is all about,” Lupin said. “They have their rough edges but they are good guys at heart. Peter is too.”  


Hermione’s smile faded. “Well as your friends you would know them best.” She gestured towards the sweets shop near them. “Shall we?”  


The store was already packed with students. Hermione looked around, feeling slightly self conscious about her lack of funds. ‘It didn’t hurt to look.’ Belby was up at the front with a large group of boys buying of all things cockroach clusters. “Probably one of his usual bets,” Lupin said as they watched him turn away from the counter. “He’s always doing stuff like that. They turned to look at the sugar quills. Out of the corner of Hermione’s eye, she could see two boys, one in his school robes, glaring at them.  


“Hey, Remus…” she didn’t get to say anything further before the boys started to approach them. Hermione recognized one of them from Potions class: Bertram Aubrey.  


“Lupin, you tell your friends that the next time they decide to mess with Bert here we won’t hesitate to retaliate.” Bertram’s friend looked really angry. Lupin for his part was looking uncomfortable.  


“I’m sorry they have still been bothering you,” he told an equally furious looking Aubrey.  


Aubrey scoffed. “Like you haven’t helped them pick on students before.”  


“I will talk to them,” Lupin promised.  


“You had better do more than that. I won’t hesitate to hex them the next time they mess with him and I’m not the only Hufflepuff who feels that way.” Both boys were gripping their wands.  


“I promise that it will stop.” Lupin told them again. They eventually left, leaving an uneasy silence between him and Hermione.  


“Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks?” Hermione asked. Looking grateful for a change of scenery, Lupin quickly agreed. They made their way out of the shop and passed the filled streets to the pub. Once inside they found seats at the back.  


“Two butterbeers please,” Lupin said when Rosmerta came over to get their order. It was very warm in the pub. Hermione took off her scarf.  


“I don’t suppose you would want to go to Zonko’s after this?” Lupin asked her. Hermione hesitated a little too long. “It’s alright. We could just stay here awhile.” Their drinks were brought over. Hermione drank hers slowly, enjoying the warmth as it slid down her throat.  


“I wouldn’t mind just sitting here and talking to you,” Hermione hoped she sounded encouraging. The two sat for awhile, talking quietly. Hermione told him about Pandora and Aurora and some of the projects she had seen going on in Ravenclaw, while he talked about his mother.  


“She was just so on board with anything magical,” he said fondly. “I don’t think I could be as enlightened if I had just found out my wife was a witch. I think she was more excited about my letter to Hogwarts than he was.”  


“My father was happy when mine came,” she told him. “He said that it explained a lot.”  


“Your mother had been a witch though, hadn’t she?” Lupin was frowning. “Wouldn’t she have told him all about magic?”  


Hermione froze. “Well some things he knew, but he knew nothing of Hogwarts or how wizards train. She then decided to home school me so it wasn’t until this year that he had any reason that learn about wizard schools at all.” She felt a pang of remorse as she lied.  


Lupin looked sympathetic. “He must miss you terribly.”  


“I miss him too, and my mother.” It was the first completely true thing she had said. Hermione hated not being able to see her parents. She wished she had gone skiing with them last year like they had wanted, but she had never liked skiing and she had wanted to be with the Weasley’s while Mr. Weasley was in the hospital.  


“I’m sorry.” His voice was very soft. “It must be terrible to lose one of your parents. My mother gets sick sometimes, so I worry about her too.”  


Hermione felt a rush of sudden sympathy for the sandy-haired boy sitting next to her. She leaned over and took his hand. “I think that we assume we have them forever and it hurts to find out that we are wrong.”  


Lupin nodded. “This is a bad topic though,” he said. He laughed. “Sirius would be ribbing me right about now, asking why I don’t make a move and well…”  


“So why don’t you?” Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known she was going to say it until it was out and now she wished desperately to take it back.  


Lupin looked surprised. “Do you really mean that?” he asked her, a touch of hope creeping into his voice. Seeing he wasn’t going to laugh at her, Hermione nodded.  


There was definitely hope there. Hermione’s heart was pounding like crazy. He was starting to lean in, looking nervous but determined. His lips briefly brushed hers and…  
…and Peter Pettigrew decided to choose that moment to come over and ask if they had seen Sirius and James?  


Lupin jumped back as though he had received an electric shock. “No,” Hermione said quietly, her heart still racing wildly. “We haven’t seen them. Why don’t you check Zonko’s?” Her tone could not have been less inviting if she tried.  


“They aren’t there,” Pettigrew replied cheerfully. “I guess I’ll just wait here for them.” He slid into the booth next to her; a grin stretched a mile wide across his chubby face. “It’s getting cold out there.” He rubbed his hands together.  


There were a thousand things that Hermione would have liked to say to him at that moment, none of which were even remotely polite, but she refrained as she looked at his smug looking face. She decided not to dignify his behavior with a reaction.  


“So Remus,” she said, turning back to him. “How are your nonverbals coming along? I heard Professor Marchbanks award you points in class yesterday.”  


“She says that Lily Evans and I are the best of Gryffindor,” he told her, glancing at Peter Pettigrew as he did so. Pettigrew merely smiled complacently as his own drink was added to the table.  


“That’s great. It’s good to see that some of the Gryffindor boys in our year have some genuine talent,” she added, as she too glanced at Pettigrew. She was pleased to see his smile falter a bit.  


“James and Sirius are the best in our year at Transfiguration.” She had definitely hit a nerve. “And I’m very good at Herbology.”  


Hermione gave him a cold smile. “I have a friend who is marvelous at Herbology. It’s a shame that you don’t have half his integrity.”  


Pettigrew’s face flushed. “I would watch it if I were you,” his voice was rising. “You should know better than to make friends with wizards like Snivellus, and spend your time insulting decent wizards, you’re…”  


But what Hermione was she never found out as Lily Evans and her friend Mary Macdonald chose that moment to intervene. “Peter, I’m glad I caught you,” Lily said as she reached their table. “Potter and Black are looking for you.”  


Pettigrew was still looking flustered. “I’ve been trying to find them all afternoon.”  


“Yes well, I have no idea where they’ve been but as they’re outside looking for you, I suggest you pay for your drink, stop harassing Remus and Rose and go meet them.”  


With a scowl, Pettigrew threw down his money and walked off. Lily turned back to them with a grin.  


“Thought I’d give you guys a hand,” she said.  


“So are Sirius and James really waiting for him?” Lupin asked.  


“I have no idea,” Lily replied cheerfully. “But it gets him out of your hair, at least for a while. See you two.” She and Mary disappeared into a crowd that was forming.  


Lupin and Hermione looked at each other and laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Lupin said, placing the money down. Hermione grabbed her scarf and the two headed out. 

Pettigrew wasn’t wrong, it really was getting cold. Having enough of Hogsmeade, and not wanting to run into any more irritable people, they made their way back to the castle.  
“Not what I expected but alright,” Hermione said as they walked. She took Lupin’s hand in hers, enjoying the warmth from his gloves.  


Lupin agreed. “We could do this again sometime, if you want.” He waited with baited breath for her answer.  


“Of course,” Hermione told him. “But I’m hexing the next person who interrupts us.”  


“Agreed.”  


End of chapter  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make it clear, this is not Snape/Hermione. He will not develop feelings for her too; as it stands he barely tolerates her. Lupin/Hermione is only temporary as well. This is a slow build and it would be unrealistic if Regulus were to change his whole life in a month or two and get together with a girl that he believes at best to be a half-blood of no important family. For her part, Hermione doesn’t care for him either at this point. So Lupin/Hermione gives me a reason to draw things out and Hermione a reason to interact with MWPP.  
> 
> 
> For the record, the riddle Hermione had to answer was: When you have me, you want to share me. When you share me, I no longer exist.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has reviewed, left kudos or bookmarked this story, thank you so much! You guys are great!

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”  
― Mahatma Gandhi  


Do Not Go Gentle  


Hermione was in a jubilant mood as she entered the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. It had been decorated with live fluttering bats and giant pumpkins. Feeling reminiscent of her early years in the school, she sat down next to Aurora.  


“How pretty.” Aurora was clearly just as admiring of the decorations as her. “The weather is perfect out isn’t it, Rose?” She added, turning to Hermione. “It’s cool but not freezing, with the trees all sorts of colors.”  


“Yes, but unfortunately the leaves won’t stay that way.” Professor Flitwick had entered the hall and overheard them. “The weather will then turn colder and we will lose the leaves entirely.” He beamed then. “I have always loved the snow though, so that might make up for it. Have an excellent feast girls!” He walked off looking as jubilant as always.  


“He helped decorate as usual,” Aurora told Hermione as they watched him make his way to the Head Table. “Flitwick always gets excited for the holidays.”  


Hermione felt incredible fondness towards the professor as well as Aurora, and probably most of the castle at that moment. Her marks were high; she had friends, and for the first time ever: a boyfriend.  


Remus Lupin was already sitting with his friends at the Gryffindor table. Hermione caught him glancing at her and smiled at him. Her smile was returned with interest, much to the amusement of Sirius and James, who began making kissing faces at him.  


“So how’s the new romance treating you?” Pandora asked as she took a seat across from Hermione and Aurora. “You’re grinning like an idiot so it must be going well.” The food had appeared on platters just then. She didn’t wait for an answer before she began to serve herself.  


“She has got a great guy for it,” Aurora said. “He is one of the nicest in our year.” She sighed dreamily. “Just treat him right mind.”  


“You think he’s more than just nice,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes.  


They were about to start bickering again. Yet Hermione was getting used to it. Unlike her arguments with Ron, there were clearly no hard feelings between the two after they argued. Aurora and Pandora were both far too laid back, as well as far too fond of teasing each other. She let their words fall over her, feeling unusually content as she dug into her dinner.  


Remus Lupin was still grinning in spite of his friends’ behavior. Catching Hermione’s eye, he mouthed ‘library’ to her. ‘Tomorrow,’ she mouthed back, ignoring the smug looks of his friends as they watched this exchange. With a last smile and nod, she went back to her chicken and ham pie as James flung his arms around Sirius in an exaggerated manner, only to pout in misery as Sirius shoved him, Pettigrew’s plate hitting the floor as collateral damage.  


9  


In the past two months, Hermione had gotten very good at nonverbal spells. She could make most things work without saying the incantation now, something that her teachers had quickly noticed. It was with a lightness of heart that she practiced her nonverbals. Not all of her classmates were quite as quick as her though. While some, like Emmeline and Snape, seemed to have picked it up even faster than she had, there were others who were doing rather poorly at it. Pettigrew had yet to accomplish the act of silently summoning so much as a feather; while Mary Macdonald had been held after class by Professor McGonagall after she broke down in class when they were supposed to be silently changing their gerbils into hatboxes.  


Her defense magic was getting better as well. Stunning and disarming spells were things she had mastered in the D.A the previous year, and she had known how to do a full-body-bind for ages, but now she could do them silently. Professor Marchbanks was a vigorous instructor but she was at least thorough. They covered a whole multitude of blocking spells, silencing spells, jinxes and hexes that might be used. Hermione found herself taking out extra material from the library and bringing it back to the common room to read in the evenings.  


There were some interesting books on magic in the Ravenclaw common room as well. She found a book on Occlumency and another on using meditation to help with ones silent spellwork. There were books on wizarding and muggle mythology and how they compared to each other, what muggles read too and what were just wizard myths. The bookshelf by Hermione’s bed was inadequate to hold half of the books she wanted to read.  


Her classes going well and with her learning loads, it was with a feeling of deep happiness that Hermione entered the library the day after Halloween. Even the sight of Regulus Black sitting at his usual table reading couldn’t dampen her spirits.  


Apparently he wasn’t in as good a mood. As she passed him, his head jerked up, his eyes following her as she headed by him. “Not meeting with Lupin today?” He hissed at her. 

“What’s the matter, has he gotten tired of you already?”  


For her part, Hermione ignored him. There was no reason to be riled by the haughty fifth year. Her back to the Slytherin boy, she searched the shelves behind him, her eyes out for a particular text. She had an Ancient Runes essay due soon and there was a book she needed badly, ‘Unraveling the Cryptic.’ Her eyes lit up a moment later and she snatched the book off its shelf.  


Without a word towards the dark haired Slytherin, who had his eyes still on her, she left the library. Not that it was his business but Hermione and Lupin seemed to be doing fine. They had taken to sitting together in class sometimes, much to his friends’ amusement, and, much to the equal amusement of hers, more than once he had popped by the Ravenclaw table during meals.  


Hermione climbed the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower, her mind awhirl at the thought of how shockingly good and quiet things seemed. She supposed it wouldn’t last, but while it did, she was going to take her good fortune while she could.  


Within minutes she was back in the comfort of the Ravenclaw common room and sitting in a seat near Emmeline. “Perkins,” was the only response she got from the quiet girl, who did not bother to look up from her homework.  


“Vance.” She answered back just as curtly. Hermione then set to work, feeling comfortable in the light circular room as Ravenclaw’s around her studied, worked on projects or just talked. Aurora was painting, Pandora was practicing silent magic and Trixie and Andrew Ryan were taking purchases for their color-changing ink. Life in Ravenclaw was good.  


0  


Hermione’s good mood lasted for the rest of the week, all the way until she came across Evan Rosier tormenting a third year Hufflepuff.  


He was slowly taking apart the boys things: his bag, his books, and his notes, while the third year struggled and tried to get his wand back. Rosier’s face was twisted into a grim smile as he tore a textbook apart with his wand.  


“You want your wand back, you little mudblood, you’re going to have to beg,” he was saying to the angry child. “Beg like the filth you are.”  


Hermione wasn’t aware that her feet had started moving, nor that she had taken out her wand until she was right next to the two. Rosier had just time to turn her way before a jet of red light hit him squarely in the chest, sending him flying backwards. He flew across the hall, his head connecting with the bare stone wall, before crumbling in a heap on the floor.  


There was a moment’s silence. Then Hermione could hear scrambling from beside her. The Hufflepuff victim had gathered up his damaged things and was shoving them into his bag as fast as he could.  


“Wait!” He froze then looked up at her in fear.  


“Reparo.” His books began to reknit themselves. She handed him his wand. He took it, eyes wary. “He will be fine,” Hermione told him. “Madame Pomfrey will make sure of that. So you just head on your way and leave it to me.”  


He did just that, leaving Hermione to approach Rosier, who was just starting to stir. She had not meant to hurt him so badly, but couldn’t muster up any pity now that she saw he was awake. The Slytherin fifth year sat up, rubbing his head as he did so.  


“You should see Madame Pomfrey to make sure there is no damage.” He glared up at her, his blue eyes icy. “I’ll bring you.” She picked up his wand, as a just in case, and the two set off for the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was bustling about the several students already there. It was cold season, and a number of people were succumbing.  


Hermione smiled at the Healer. “Mr. Rosier here hurt his head after a tumble down the stairs,” she said simply. “We thought it best that we come here to get it checked out.”  


Madame Pomfrey nodded approvingly. “Then you did best my dear.” She then turned to Rosier and began to inspect the back of his head, where a bump was forming.  


Hermione handed him back his wand. He took it, his eyes as cold as ever. They seemed to say: this isn’t over. She was not fussed, having dealt with actual full grown Death Eaters, instead of one fifteen year old wannabe one. Nonetheless, it was best to leave Madame Pomfrey to her work, as Rosier was looking about ready to lunge for her throat.  


“I hope you feel better.” Rosier’s glare was all the answer she needed before leaving him to be patched up.  


9  


“I should give you another detention.”  


Hermione put down her book with a sigh. It was beginning to become a theme, her sitting in the library, just trying to work on her homework, and Regulus Black intruding. It seemed that he always needed the library lately whenever she was in it.  


“Are you listening to me? I should give you a detention for attacking Evan.”  


“If you wanted to, no one is stopping you,” Hermione told him. “I am warning you though; I won’t stand for him bullying people because of their blood status.” She cut him off before he could answer: “It is repulsive how many times I’ve seen a child being harassed for their being a Muggleborn.”  


“It’s okay though if they are bullied just because the bullies are bored though, isn’t it?” Regulus was looking smug as she paled. They both knew exactly who he meant.  


“I don’t think that’s okay either.”  


“No? Then why are you dating one of them?”  


Hermione glared at him. “I wasn’t aware that it was your business exactly who I dated.” As he looked about to say something else, she continued: “and Remus is not a bully.”  


“That you know of.”  


Hermione blinked. ‘What exactly was he trying to say?’ “Remus Lupin is a good guy. You just don’t like him because he is friends with your brother.”  


“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Regulus Black snapped. “As though I care who that blood traitor is friends with! I was just saying that your boyfriend isn’t as innocent as you think.”  


In her mind, Hermione could hear Bertram Aubrey’s words from the Hogsmeade trip: ‘like you haven’t helped them pick on students before.’  


She tried to block this out as they faced each other. “You’re obsessed,” she told him, her temper starting to rise. From out of the corner of her eye, she could see Madame Pince who was checking out books to a small group of third years, throw them an ugly look. Sighing, she gathered her things and headed out. For once that did not seem to be enough as he was apparently intent on following her, muttering under his breath as he went. He followed her down to the Great Hall and towards the door leading into the grounds.  


“You think just because you’re obsessed with Lupin that it means we all have as boring of lives as you.” He told her smugly. “Well I could care less about Sirius and his little group of blood traitors and half-bloods and I could care even less about an uptight Ravenclaw bitch like you.”  


And that was it. Hermione turned on her heel, “We both know that is a lie. You watch him constantly, relentlessly, always on the lookout to see what he’s doing, and for nothing. Sirius never gives you the time of day, does he?” Taking his angry looking face as confirmation, she continued: “I know that he left you, just ditched you behind. I’ll bet he never wasted a second before deciding that you were worth ditching if it meant being free. And it drives you mad! It just hurts so bad that big brother has no time for you doesn’t it?” She then added with satisfaction: “That James Potter is more of a brother to him than you will ever be.”  


Hermione had crossed a line and she knew it. His wand was out before she had even finished her sentence, his fingers griping it so tightly they were turning white at the knuckles.  


“You little bitch,” he hissed in anger. “You should keep your filthy mouth shut about things you don’t know. Just because you’re shagging Lupin doesn’t mean you have the right to…” He was cut off with a silencing spell a moment later. Hermione had fire in her eyes.  


To her surprise a spell crashed into her a moment later, nearly knocking her off her feet. ‘He knew silent magic?’ The silencing spell canceled, he cast a disarming charm.  


Hermione was for once faster. Her shield was up and blocking him in seconds. ‘Thank you Harry.’ The next spell that came from him was a simple jelly-legs jinx, then Impedimenta. Hermione blocked them both, though with a bit of difficulty, flinging back her own disarming spell as she did. She may have been older and more knowledgeable, but he had the better reflexes due to years of playing seeker and it was all she could do to keep on her toes.  


“Scourgify!”  


“Stupify!”  


“Accio books!” It was experimentive at best, but as several of Hermione books shot towards her, she redirected them in his direction, noting with satisfaction his failure to block the last two.  


The next spell flew past her, only barely avoiding her face. One of the books, Unraveling the Cryptic, knocked into her, its cover tearing and she couldn’t help but think that Madame Pince was going to have a fit if she couldn’t fix it.  


“I say, what is going on here?”  


Regulus and Hermione barely paused long enough to acknowledge the ruffled ghost watching them before continuing. Nearly-Headless Nick was looking put out as they kept up flinging jinx and hexes.  


“Now really!” he added indignantly as a bat-bogey hex flew through him. “If you two were in my house, I’d be grossly offended. This is a most irregular duel; none of the niceties observed…I shall get a professor if this doesn’t stop at once!”  


As neither seemed inclined to listen, he headed to do just that, another spell sailing through him as he glided away.  


“Stupify!” Hermione blocked it with a flick of the wand. “Impedimenta! Protego,” she added, as he tried to blast her wand out of her hand once more. “Is that the best you can-”  


She never got to finish her sentence as his next spell slammed into her. Lifted off her feet, she flew backwards, straight into the niche in the hall holding the house points. As sapphires and emeralds flew down around her, the last thing she heard was an angry shout sounding through the hall.”  


“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”  


0  


It couldn’t have been much worse. It was not five minutes after Hermione came to in the hospital wing that she was informed by a Ravenclaw prefect making their rounds that she was to report to Professor Flitwick as soon as Madame Pomfrey released her. For once Hermione found herself in no hurry to be let out, and Madame Pomfrey, irritable and determined to keep an eye on Hermione, made her stay until the following day.  


So she found herself, on an early, crisp Saturday morning, making her way towards the Charm’s professor and Ravenclaw heads office. The door was ajar, light from its several windows spilling out into the hallway. Professor Flitwick was already awake and grading papers, his wand charmed to move across the parchment. At her knock, he ceased what he was doing at once.  


“Miss Perkins,” he said, looking grave. “I heard that Madame Pomfrey was keeping you overnight. How are you feeling? It could not have been too serious, or she wouldn’t have released you now.”  


“I’m alright,” Hermione told him. With a wave of his wave, he conjured up a simple chair and Hermione took it, thanking him. There was a moment’s awkward silence.  


“Miss Perkins, Professor McGonagall told me that she came upon you and young Regulus Black fighting in the hall yesterday,” he told her, his tiny face surprisingly stern. “One of the ghosts had seen you both and unable to stop you had gone off to inform her. I would like to hear what caused this.”  


Hermione’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. She had never liked getting in trouble at school, even before attending Hogwarts. It was very uncomfortable having a professor she respected as much as Flitwick looking so disappointed in her.  


“We had a fight,” she told him. “We both said some nasty things and…and I cast a silencing charm to make him stop and then he struck back and…” she was feeling awful now. Never had she fought in the halls like that, not even with Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson, and here she was starting a fight with a boy at least a year younger than her. “It, it got out of hand.” Hermione couldn’t even look at him, she was feeling so embarrassed by this time.  


“I see.” He was silent a moment. “Miss Perkins, I should not have to tell you how bad this looks. A member of my house, fighting with another student; one who tells me that you hexed a housemate of his just earlier that day.” Hermione’s head jerked up at the mention of Evan Rosier but she didn’t dare interrupt. “I have spoken to Professor Slughorn and we have both come to an agreement as to how to handle this. Twenty points are to be taken from each of you and you will both receive two weeks detention starting tomorrow.”  


Hermione’s surprise at getting off so easily must have shown on her face, because Flitwick added: “The detention will be in the company of Mr. Black. The pair of you will be required to put aside your differences and talk to each other, for an hour each evening, and then write a ten-inch essay on what you have learned about each other.”  


Her mouth dropped. It would take a miracle if they didn’t kill each other on the first evening.  


Professor Flitwick was not done, however. “There is one more Hogsmeade visit before we break for the holidays,” he told her. “If you are unable to get along over the next two weeks, then neither of you will be attending. Professor Slughorn quite agrees with this decision.”  


And that was that. There was no argument to make. With an effort to appear calm, Hermione asked him where the detentions would be held.  


“You will both meet in my classroom for the first week and Professor Slughorn’s for the second at nine-o’clock. We will be keeping an eye on you both and neither of you will be allowed to have your wands during the hour.”  


Hermione nodded in resignation. Seeing her looking so downcast, Flitwick offered her a small smile. “There now, it is only two weeks and who knows, you might find that you have more in common than you think!” He obviously sensed that she wasn’t too convinced as he quickly changed tactics. “You should get to breakfast. A good meal and some time with your friends will put things to rights.”  


Thanking him, Hermione got up and excused herself. Well, she thought as she headed down to breakfast, at least they couldn’t hex each other during these detentions. ‘Thank God for some small favors,’ she thought as she passed the entrance hall, her tired eyes trailing over to the hourglass, which had since been fixed.  


“Rose!” Hermione turned to find Remus Lupin heading towards her out of the Great Hall. “I just found out why you weren’t at dinner last night.” To Hermione’s pleasure, he slid his hand in hers, his touch comforting and warm. “Did Regulus Black really attack you?”  


“More like we both attacked each other but he got a lucky shot,” Hermione told him. Seeing him frowning, she added: “I’m not proud of it, but he seems to rile me lately.” She sighed. “We have both been given two weeks detention together, which isn’t going to help but…”  


“Is he harassing you?” Now Remus was looking worried. “As a prefect, he shouldn’t be starting fights in the hallway like that.”  


Hermione shook her head. “It’s more like we have both been thrown together a little too much. We are both in the Slug Club and spend a lot of time in the library and well…” It struck her that the younger Black spent a rather large amount of his time reading, a trait he certainly didn’t share with either his older brother or his friends.  


As though he knew she had thought about him, Sirius Black came into view, along with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.  


“So what has my git of a little brother done now?” Sirius asked. He looked more annoyed than Hermione had seen him since the old days at Order headquarters. “Is it true he sent you to Madame Pomfrey’s?”  


“Well yes,” Hermione admitted. “I don’t think he meant to do that though,” she added hastily, as both James and Sirius were looking mutinous. Pettigrew for his part seemed amused.  


“I’ve been meaning to have a talk with my dear brother and his little friends about their behavior,” Sirius told her. “I think I’ll do that today.”  


“You don’t want to be getting in trouble on my account,” Hermione told him. “We both already have detention.”  


Sirius wasn’t listening. This was beyond Hermione, or Rose rather, as she was just a girl he barely knew that Lupin was interested in. She could see from the steely look in his grey eyes that she had only added fuel to the fire that was soon to be erupting between the two Black brothers.  
0  



	8. Chapter 8

Somewhere inside all of us is the power to change the world – Roald Dahl

Chapter 8

 

“This is stupid as hell,” Regulus Black drawled as he lounged back in his chair, his dark hair falling into his face. 

Hermione looks up from her desk, where she was trying to figure out the drawing that was carved into the wood and sighed. It had only been fifteen minutes and this was the third comment he had made. She was finding the sound of his voice very grating. 

“So take it up with Professor Slughorn,” she told him as he glared at her. 

“Oh, wow what a clever suggestion. I never could have thought of that on my own.” His grey eyes were glacial as they stared into her own. “What a clever Ravenclaw you are.”

Hermione just shook her head at him. “Of course it’s not as though you have any clever ideas of your own to suggest.” At his look of annoyance, she added: “I don’t think cleverness is a Black family trait actually.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Now he was looking angry. “If you’re comparing me to my soft-headed brother then you can just piss off!”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. She had definitely hit a nerve, judging from his words. It always seemed with him that talking about Sirius was an extremely bad topic. “Am I sensing a bit of hostility between the two of you?” 

“That bastard is no proper brother of mine,” he told her. “He has disgraced the family name of Black and shamed our parents.” He shook his head. “Sirius has no proper pride for his family history, his blood status, or even his place as a member of wizarding society.”

Hermione stared. “How do you figure that last one? It’s not like he snapped his wand in half and went to join the muggle world. ”

“He might as well have,” Regulus told her. He was no longer lounging in his chair but sitting erect as he faced her. “He loves muggle things. Motorbikes and tools and pictures of muggle girls... He used to hang them all over the walls of his room, muggle girl pictures, non-moving, all over the walls of his bedroom in our house!” He said this as though it were the height of scandal.

Hermione wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. It seemed very like Sirius to hang pictures of motorbikes and girls on his walls. She wouldn’t have put it past him to hang naked girl photos on his walls if it irritated his parents. Then a thought hit her and she couldn’t resist. 

“Are you going to tell me you never took a look at any of those pictures?” she asked. “Not even the smallest of looks after he left?” 

He looked the same way Percy Weasley looked after Fred and George found out he had a girlfriend: Scandalized, upset, and judging by his flushed face: more than a little bit guilty. 

“I have better things to do than look at muggle girls,” he replied haughtily, his face still slightly red. “But Sirius always did everything he wasn’t supposed to and look at where that’s gotten him?”

Hermione shrugged. “Well I don’t know him very well but he looks happy enough to me.”

It was impossible not to see the hurt look that briefly crossed his face before he assumed the same haughty glare. “It is not worth it to throw away years of tradition and a family that only wants the best for you. Nothing matters to him though but getting into trouble with that James Potter.” It was also impossible not to catch the bitter way he said James Potter’s name. 

“Well I think that they are seem pretty jolly to me,” Hermione said. She wished she had her books with her. There was still homework to get through, and here she was wasting her time with a very surly fifth year Slytherin. 

“You would think that they were jolly though,” Regulus said. “You and that Lupin seem pretty cozy together these days.”

“Mmmm.” Hermione had gone back to inspecting the desk. 

Regulus’s grey eyes narrowed as he glared at the bushy-haired Ravenclaw. “I bet you two get real cozy in the evenings after everyone’s gone to bed. You both are a little too straight-laced to not have something steamy going on.” He smirked at her. “Tell me, does Lupin have it in him to make you scream? Or do you make him scream?”

Hermione looked up. “If that’s jealously, Regulus, then it doesn’t look good on you.” 

“Jealous of a peaky-looking halfblood?” He laughed. “Believe what you want Perkins, but the thought of you and your little hairy boyfriend shagging doesn’t do it for me.” 

Hermione froze. ‘How the hell did he know?’ He was still talking, making more nasty remarks about her and Remus Lupin, but she failed to hear any of them. ‘Snape,’ she thought, ‘Snape must have told him. How many others did he tell?’

“Are you listening to me Perkins?” Regulus said. “No, probably fantasizing about that boyfriend of yours.” 

“Sure,” Hermione said. “It beats thinking about you and this detention.” She sighed. Whatever Snape had told him, it was best not to rise to the bait. “And I have homework to do.” She added miserably. 

“You and me both,” Regulus said. “But you choose to attack me, so here we are.”

It was Hermione’s turn to glare. “If my memory serves me correctly you’re the one who sent me to the hospital wing, not the other way around.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “I could be doing anything: homework, catching up on sleep, re-reading Hogwarts, a History.”

“Kissing your boyfriend,” Regulus added. He was smirking slightly. 

“Right, as I said, it beats being here with you.” She glared at him. “Why do you have to make a show of fighting with everyone, Black? You and I here, this could have been avoided.”

“If you hadn’t of attacked Evan then it would have been avoided,” he told her. “But it’s not surprising that you did what you did. When you spend time with my brother and his friends, some of their bullying ways are bound to rub off on you.”

“I’m not a bully. It was Evan Rosier who was bullying another student, but you will insist that I’m the bully. I don’t regret attacking Rosier.”

His eyes were looking determinedly in the other direction now. “No I suppose you don’t. He attacked first, so it’s okay, I didn’t attack first, but it’s still okay. After all, I’m just a Slytherin. That’s free game for you and your mates.”

“I did attack you first,” Hermione said. She turned to face him, but he was still looking away from her. “And I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have let things get to that point.” He continued to face the wall, his posture rigid. “I don’t know all that is wrong between you and your brother and I know that he is far from perfect. I just don’t like to see students hexed because of petty reasons and that goes for him and Rosier both.”

At first there was no response, then, he answered quietly: “I haven’t hexed anyone.”

“No,” she agreed. “I’ve never seen you hex anyone. You agree with Rosier doing it and that’s still pretty bad. I’m not saying that your brother and his friends still aren’t wrong,” Hermione added, for he had opened his mouth to argue. “They are, but so is Evan Rosier.” 

They sat in silence for several minutes before Hermione felt the need to break the silence. “Do you know anything about motorcycles, Regulus Black?”

He shot her a venomous look. “No I do not, and I hardly care to hear about them. My brother always had the most rubbish taste.”

“I don’t much care for them either,” Hermione told him. “I’m not interested in recreational sports. I know that you like Quidditch, but I much prefer to read. Every since I was a little girl I liked to read. My grandmother, who is a muggle, she got me into reading.” Regulus Black made a derisive noise at this which she pretended not to hear. “She used to read to me all sorts of muggle stories, like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. We made our way through the Chronicles of Narnia together as well.” She smiled in sadness at the thought of Rose Granger, who had been dead for years.

“Sounds fascinating,” he said sarcastically but she could tell he was curious. He did cross her as something of as reader. 

Hermione smiled. “Of course most witches and wizards in these stories were quite bad, but Cinderella’s godmother is a good magic user. She helps Cinderella out in the end.”

“Like muggles would know the first thing about how real magic works,” Regulus sneered contemptuously. 

“Well they get as much wrong as they get right,” she told him. “Of course muggles are also very interested in science fiction. My father always liked to read Jules Verne, he’s a French writer from the last century and he wrote about people going to the moon and tunneling deep into the earth and things like that.”

Regulus scoffed. “As though muggles could do anything like that.”

“Well they did make it to the moon,” Hermione said brightly. “Witches and wizards still have yet to do that.”

“There is no way in hell muggles actually made it to the moon,” he told her, “If wizards haven’t done it, then I don’t see how a bunch of ignorant muggles could have.” 

“We have books in the library about their achievements,” she told him. “As extra reading for those taking muggle studies.” Unable to resist the temptation, she added: “If reading about muggles isn’t so very beneath your great dignity that is, you might want to look into them.”

“Like hell I will.”

Hermione fixed him her most determined stare. “That’s because you’re afraid of challenging any viewpoints of yours that you’re currently fixated on. I dare you to try and do some research of your own on muggles. They might surprise you.” 

He said nothing to this. The two sat in silence for several minutes before the door was opened and tiny Professor Flitwick came in. 

“It’s ten o’clock,” he said cheerfully, “and you’ve both made it through fine. I hope you’ve each gotten the chance to talk to each other and make peace.” 

Regulus Black grimaced. Flitwick frowned at him. “Now then, give it a chance and you might find that you have more in common than you think. Each of you is a fine student, after all. No…” he took a look at each grim face in turn and then shook his head: “well at any rate, it’s getting late. Off to bed with the pair of you.”

“Goodnight Professor,” Hermione said as she took her wand back and headed out, an idea brewing in her mind.

0

“So how was detention last night?” Remus asked her as they sat in the grounds. “Sirius’s brother not giving you a hard time?”

Hermione shook her head as she stared over at the lake. It was a chilly day and the students outdoors were wrapped tightly in cloaks and scarves. She leaned back against an old tree trunk as she watched a pair of first years skipping rocks. 

“Remus?”

“Yes.” He looked at her. 

“Why didn’t you…” she paused, then started again, “why did Sirius and James attack Bertram Aubrey?” She had meant to say, ‘why didn’t you stop them,’ but had decided against it. It was too late though, as he had obviously figured that out.

“I don’t know, because they could I guess.” He too stared at the students at the lake. “I know I’m a prefect,” he muttered, “and that I should stop them, but it’s hard to check them when we are all together. They are so funny sometimes, and such good friends and fun to hang around, that I guess I just get carried away with them when they pull their little stunts.”

Hermione took his hand. “I imagine you must have fun. You always seem so bright when you’re with them.” ‘So much less lonely too,’ she thought, ‘what I don’t know about being horribly lonely.’ Remus smiled at her as they sat there holding hands and watching the remaining leaves blow in the air and the squid rise to the surface and splash the shrieking first years. 

“Are you going to the next Hogsmeade weekend Rose?” He sounded very hopeful. 

“If I can,” she told him, “It all depends on how good Regulus Black and I are. If we play nicely over the next two weeks, then yes I can go.” Hermione smiled at him. “And I would be delighted if we could catch up on any other places you left off last time.”

Remus gave her a grin that seemed almost wolfish. “I would be delighted to escort you anywhere, Miss Perkins.” 

“Just to Hogsmeade, nowhere further,” she told him smiling. She then checked her watch. “The sun is starting to set. We should go in soon. I still have to get to the library before dinner.” 

8

Hermione made her way through the shelves carefully, her brown eyes scanning the dusty contents for anything that looked interesting or informative. She would start small, especially since her efforts might be horribly rejected. Ducking around two seventh years leaning against a row of books, she found the perfect place to seek from.

“He’ll look,” she said quietly to herself as she inspected the cover, “even if it gets thrown back at me, his curiosity will be roused and he’ll come back to look.” Ignoring the frown a third year Hufflepuff sitting nearby was giving her for talking; she pulled the book and went in search of another. 

Nine o’clock at night found her arriving punctually to Flitwick’s detention. After cheerfully handing him her wand, she smiled and patted the books. “These are for Regulus,” she told him as he looked at them questioningly. “I think he’ll like them if he gives them a try.” With that she headed in and settled in the same battered desk as the night before, this time in a far better mood. 

It was another five minutes before he arrived. After handing in his wand, Regulus took a seat across from her, his eyes averted. 

“Hello Regulus Black,” she said cheerfully. He ignored her. “It’s nice out today, don’t you think?” Still no answer. “I think that today is a nicer day than yesterday.”

Still not receiving any answer, she smiled more brightly than ever before turning to her books. “How boring you are. At least I brought something to do.” She opened the smaller of the two and directed her eyes away from him. She was aware of exactly when he turned to regard her; knew that he was doing so every few minutes when he thought she wouldn’t notice, but she said nothing. Turning a page every so often, she pretended to be deeply absorbed in her book.

“You’re not supposed to be reading in here.”

So he finally talked. She didn’t answer him though. Hermione knew what she was doing.

“You’re going to get us into trouble.”

Hermione turned a page.

“Is that a book on muggles? Are you trying to peak my curiosity?”

Hermione continued to ignore him. His eyes were narrow as they watched her. “Stupid muggle books, I could care less about them.” He turned in a huff in his seat, his back to her as he glared at the wall. ‘He really hates that wall,’ Hermione thought in amusement. ‘He gives it the meanest looks.’ 

He continued to glare as he turned back to focus on her. “What the hell are you reading?” He leaned over in his seat to inspect the books. “Perkins!”

Hermione looked around in surprise. “Do you need something, Black?” 

“You’re not supposed to be reading in here,” he told her, “but since you are, you might as well tell me what you’re reading.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing you would like. You don’t like muggle literature, after all.”

He gave her a nasty look. “So it is something muggle after all. Figures.” he scowled. “What the hell is it though?”

“Why do you care?” she asked him. “You wouldn’t read any of it. It’s beneath you to read a little muggle literature.” She then smirked at him. “I bet you wouldn’t understand the work anyway. 

“Piss off Perkins. I can understand anything written by a muggle.”

“Then open your mind and read.”

“If I do, will you stop talking to me about them?” he asked her. “We have nearly two weeks of detention and you’re driving me mad.”

“Well,” Hermione pretended to consider. “Deal.” 

As Flitwick started to unlock the door, Hermione stepped over to his desk and placed down in front of Regulus a copy of 100 Innovations for the Magicless home and an old battered copy of H.G Wells’ The Invisible Man. “And I want five rolls of parchment to be handed in on Friday,” she told him cheerfully. 

He looked at the books and then back at her with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “You set me up.”

“Maybe I did,” she conceded. “But if you don’t make an effort than I’m going to assume you can’t even manage the literature.” Her eyes were alit with amusement. “Go ahead Black and step up and prove me wrong.”

She knew she had him and he knew it too, judging from the scowl on his face, and the anger burning in his eyes, but his pride was on the line and that was enough.

888


	9. Chapter 9

There is no Darkness but ignorance – William Shakespeare

Chapter 9

 

The next day Hermione was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, reading. This was not an unusual occurrence for the bushy-haired girl, who spent most of her time devouring any remotely interesting book she could get her hands on. Rather the subject matter was more along the taste of the Malfoy’s and Black’s and their like: for it was a book on wizarding genealogy. A not inconsiderable, not to mention a thoroughly repulsive read. 

She sighed and put it down. It was rubbish how some witches and wizards allowed themselves to be taken in by such nonsense. In addition to herself and her own aptitude for spells, Hermione had classmates who were muggleborns who were perfectly talented, and knew purebloods who could barely manage pre-O.W.L level spells, and people like Regulus Black still refused to see that there was no difference between the two in terms of ability. That Lily Evans and Dirk Cresswell could be excellent wizards while the pureblooded Pettigrew barely knew what he was doing in most of his classes was proof enough of this. 

If she could get through the next two weeks of detention, she could get this whole thing out of her mind. But she still had one last hurdle before she was home free. A certain essay on the pureblooded nuisance. How in the world was she supposed to talk about him? What did she know about him at all? That he liked Quidditch? Well that would hardly fill out a whole essay. That he had a brother that he didn’t talk to? She thought that was a subject not worth bringing up. That his whole family’s mindset was warped? That was an even worse subject to bring up and one she had even less interest in going into. 

The book was nauseating. The whole idea of an essay on him was nauseating. As far as she saw it, it would be like trying to educate a neo-Nazi on their anti-Semitism. Hermione ran a hand through her bushy hair, simply ruffling it further, as she tried to puzzle out the problem that was Regulus Black. He had taken the books, it was true, but that had been nothing more than his pride being put on the line, hadn’t it? She could not for a moment think that he was actually going to read too much into either of them, could she?

Yet in spite of everything, Hermione had a tiny spark of the idealist in her, a part of her that wanted to think that she could touch someone else’s mind enough to make a difference. It was the same part of her that had always tried to get Harry and Ron interested in house elf rights and avidly discuss what they had learned in class. That part of her thought that there was always a chance that she was wrong and maybe he would take the books she’d given him to heart?

Then again, maybe Peter Pettigrew would grow a spine, Severus Snape would give out candy and Lily Evans would commit murder. Hermione needed a grip before she drove herself too crazy with what-ifs. 

0

It was a very irate Regulus Black who greeted her at their next detention, 100 Innovations for the Magicless Home clutched in a death grip in one pale hand. He stared at Hermione as he stood by his seat. 

“What the hell is a microwave?” Regulus was by now glaring at Hermione as she took her usual seat. He still had yet to sit down but was standing across from her, his arms crossed as she regarded him curiously. “Well?”

“It heats food up,” she replied, feeling secretly pleased that he had actually started reading. “You see Muggles have stoves and ovens, but if they wish to prepare a quick meal, they can use a microwave oven.”

“And it uses some kind of rays to warm food up?” He looked deeply skeptical at this.

“Technically what it uses are electromagnetic currents from radiation to keep the food at a certain temperature,” Hermione explained. “It’s convenient because the food can be prepared in minutes instead of the hours sometimes necessary for things to be cooked in the oven.” She paused to let this sink in before adding. “Though usually the taste of the food is found to be better when prepared in the conventional oven over a microwave one.” 

“It sounds bloody stupid to me,” he told her. “When we have all sorts of ways to prepare food quickly with magic. “

“This isn’t about preparing food,” she reminded him. “Rather it’s about cooking the food in as short a time as possible.” 

“Well it still sounds stupid,” he told her. “More of that electricity right?”

“Right,” she said, secretly pleased that he got the term right. Even Arthur Weasley couldn’t manage that. “All very up to date and necessary for the average muggle home.” She nodded towards the book. “It gives very basic definitions of each item in that book as it’s simply meant to form a basic discussion for a first year Muggle Studies class. There might be books in the library that discuss it further.” 

“What difference does it make how muggles cook their food?” Regulus asked. “What purpose does it all serve?”

“Well it explains how muggles can manage without too much trouble things that witches and wizards take for granted through the use of magic,” Hermione said. She studied his displeased expression as he sat down. For a moment he was silent and she thought he might be absorbing all of this. 

“Of course if they had magic they wouldn’t need to go through all of this bother.” And that was his take on it. 

“But they don’t,” Hermione said. “And they still manage so much.” 

He didn’t have a ready answer to this so he settled for a grimace instead. Hermione chose to take this as a won battle. She observed him even more minutely as he looked back down at the book. His dark hair, worn slightly shorter than his brother’s, nonetheless still fell into his grey eyes as he read. His look of concentration was far less severe on his features than his usual look of disgust, but Hermione had to confess, it was strange seeing it on a face that so resembled the carefree Sirius Black. 

She supposed he wouldn’t take too well to being told that he resembled his brother in any way, shape or form so she filed that thought away being speaking again.

“We took radios from muggles, you know.” He turned to look at her. “Wizards were so fascinated by them that they took the invention and created their own channels.” The Weasley’s always had their radio on. The thought gave Hermione a pang of homesickness. 

“I don’t listen to radio,” Regulus Black replied. “It’s too muggle.” He said the word as though it were a disease. The image of Mrs. Black’s shrieking portrait came unbidden into Hermione’s mind at his words. There was no way he had been introduced to radio with that kind of mother raising him. 

“You will miss out on a lot of good music that way,” she told him. “You should give it a try one day.” 

“Absolutely not.” And that was all he had to say on the matter before turning back to his reading. 

Still Hermione saw that he had made great progress through the book and she couldn’t say why but it pleased her. Perhaps it was that same spark of idealism, that part of her that wanted to encourage learning in others. Whatever the case, his reading made the time they had to pass in Professor Flitwick’s classroom all the better. They didn’t talk and he didn’t agree with her, but he read the book. She would take her victories when and where she could get them and this was definitely a small victory. 

That day and the next were surprisingly devoid of arguments on the subject of muggles between the two. Outside of a few questions about the practicality of cars and the purpose of television, there was very little criticism, which was nice. He was even fairly polite about his questions, or at least far less insulting than usual. Hermione had made it through a week like this and had only another week to go before the other shoe dropped.

She had just settled into her seat in Slughorn’s classroom when she heard the Potion’s master greeting Regulus Black with shock.

“Mr. Black, that is a most unusual hair style. I can’t say it looks very smart but perhaps the ladies will like it.”

Hermione turned. “Oh,” was all she got out. Because Regulus Black did indeed have a new hairdo and it was definitely not very smart. 

That and the look in Black’s eyes could have frozen lava. 

0

Needless to say Hermione was one lady who did not like the new, bare hairdo and she made sure to make her feelings known as soon as she could pull her boyfriend’s best friend aside and tell him so. Sirius for his part was unapologetic.

“He acts like a snake so I gave him a snake look. It’ll grow back.” He smirked at this. “In a while when the charm has worn off.”

“I don’t think it’s very funny,” Hermione said. “He was embarrassed and angry.” That had been an understatement to the fuming, red-faced boy she had seen in detention the previous day. 

“I fail to see the problem.” Sirius’s grin could cut glass. He was immensely pleased with himself, far more than were either Hermione or the lurking Remus, who gave Hermione an apologetic look before coming to stand beside her.

“Sirius was just concerned after that terrible fight you both had,” Remus said quietly. “You did spend some time with Madame Pomfrey after all.” He was clutching several dog-eared books and had the look of a small boy justifying his new troublesome pet to his irate mother. 

“Exactly,” Sirius said. “That and it gives him one less thing to strut about.”

“You’re one to talk,” James said with a laugh. “You strut your looks all the bloody time.” Pettigrew laughed at this and even Remus smiled in spite of himself. 

Sirius glared at him. “And whose side are you on, mate?”

“The non-Slytherin side,” James said loyally as he clapped Sirius on the back. “As always.” He offered Hermione a smile that was clearly meant to be encouraging. “If it’s alright with you Perkins, we were just trying to look after things. Little punks like that think they can hex whoever they want and get away with it.”

“But he didn’t get away with it,” she said. “He got two weeks detention, just like I did. All Sirius did was to make things worse.”

“People like him deserve more than just detention.” Great now Pettigrew was weighing in with an opinion. If it wasn’t just her lucky day that day.

“He technically did,” Hermione said. “His two weeks will obviously cut into his time practicing for Quidditch, so he can hardly be said to get off easy.”

Sirius laughed at that. “And we all know that he needs all the help he can get against the Gryffindors.”

Judging from how well his team had done against the Ravenclaws Hermione wasn’t too sure of this but she let it slid. Woes betide her if she let herself get drawn into an argument over Quidditch of all things. 

“I don’t need your help,” she said. “And I don’t need you using my fights to start your own war with your brother,” she added as Sirius was looking particularly smug. She turned on her heel, ready to head into the Great Hall for whatever breakfast she could grab before class. “So leave it be.”

For his part Remus didn’t even try to follow her, instead heading for his own table, which was just as well. Hermione stalked over to the Ravenclaw table where Emmeline was still eating. Snatching up a muffin, she quickly began to eat, ignoring the looks she was receiving. 

From across the table, Belby was looking particularly amused. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table before turning to regard Hermione. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked smugly. “Your boyfriend is looking like you kicked him in the face.”

“That’s a thought, maybe someone should do that to you,” a fifth year said to him. “See if they can’t improve it.”

Hermione and Emmeline both finished eating and got up, both narrowly avoiding splashes from Belby’s milk as he tossed it in the face of the offending fifth year boy. Shouldering her bag Hermione hurried to class, avoiding the look of rage that was facing her way from the Slytherin table.

9

Hermione, in spite of being on a whole other side of the building, still managed to get to Slughorn’s dungeon classroom first. She supposed her detention mate wanted to take as long as possible before showing up. She took a seat near the front of the room, where several cauldrons, scrubbed clean of their contents, stood gleaming on the long tables. It was a few minutes before she heard Slughorn’s jovial tones and knew that He had arrived. Still she did not turn, even as she heard the door shut behind him. For a minute there was silence. 

“This is all your damn fault.”

She turned to wearily regard the fifth year. ‘So that’s how he wanted to play it?’ “Black I didn’t tell your brother to hex you. In fact I’m just as annoyed as you are that he did it.” At his look of disbelief, she continued, “really I am. I don’t need him trying to use my fights to start fights of his own.”

“You want me to believe that when you’re dating one of his friends,” Regulus looked as disbelieving as he was angry. 

“I don’t ask you to believe anything,” she told him. “I’m simply telling you that I don’t want him using me as an excuse to fight with you. I can handle my own affairs without others butting in, whether Remus is my boyfriend or not.” 

He said nothing to this. Instead he walked up to her and threw down 100 Innovations for the Magicless Home. “I finished it.” 

Amazing. This had to be the first non-Quidditch related book she had given to someone that they had actually read. That was a new record alright. “Well then.”

“Well, it told me nothing that really matters. So muggles have found some means of living without magic? Big deal, we still can do it better. There is nothing really interesting in there. Just a bunch of boring information about televisions and microwaves and cars. Why should I care about any of it?”

Hermione found herself wondering if he didn’t have a point. It wasn’t the most interesting of reads. Informative yes, but hardly interesting. Just technical information, more likely to help one pass a muggle studies class than to get one interested in muggle culture. But then Muggle Studies had been rather bland in this regard, unable to sustain a real interest in non-magical culture. At the word culture a conversation she had with her dorm mates occurred to her then and she smiled. 

“Yet wizards have hardly anything really inventive that they’ve created,” she said. “Little in the way of art or poetry, or even music. Muggles have less fantasy but they love writing and creating works that encourage it. Imagine that.”

“I doubt they have much success with it,” he told her. “They can hardly know what they are talking about after all.”

“Shakespeare still created some good stories,” Hermione said. “He did live right before the wizarding world went into hiding so he may have picked up some things.”

Regulus paused. “He was a playwright.” 

Hermione felt surprised he knew this. “Yes that’s right. Have you read anything by him?”

“Of course not.” As he stood there with his bare head and haughty look Hermione felt almost sorry for him. It was too ridiculous, the idea that was forming in her head, but she couldn’t help letting it out.

“You should go to the theater one day,” she said. “And see Shakespeare performed. “His idea of witches in Macbeth was very bad but A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s fairies are almost like regular wizards in their squabbling and love potion making. King Lear and Hamlet are both worth a watch as well, for the full feel of the pathos that their situations bring.”

“I wouldn’t set foot in a muggle theater,” Regulus told her. “And I have no interest in Shakespeare.”

But he was lying. Hermione could almost see the mind working, of a boy who read a book on muggle inventions not just to make a point but because he needed to see it through. If she wasn’t mistaken, he would read Shakespeare, if not see it performed. It just took a little push. 

“Maybe the book was just not your style. Still The Invisible Man might grab you.” She smiled at him. “It isn’t all technical details and you did agree to read it.”

“Yeah I’ll read it,” he said sulkily. “But that’s it then, I’m done. These two weeks are almost finished anyways.”

She nodded, thinking. She would have to write about him. He was still so unreachable, yet he had been the first to read a book she had recommended and maybe she could work that into her essay. An almost kindred soul for books and learning. 

“And what purpose is there for this man to get invisible anyways. What business is it of some muggle?”

She did say almost kindred. 

0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, they almost bonded over books. Almost still being key here. Seriously in my head canon for Regulus I see him as a total bookworm, so that’s definitely got an important role to play here and a means by which to soften him, if only a little. He’s definitely arrogant but is a little too curious for his own liking. We will see where that leads him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now up: Hermione in wonderland! Don’t ask where this came from. I’m not really sure.  
> 

“Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.”  
― Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn  


Do Not Go Gentle  


The next evening saw Hermione walking out in the grounds with Remus before her detention. It was bitterly cold, the wind hitting their faces as Hermione clutched her scarf to her face for warmth. For his part Remus hardly seemed to notice, so focused was he on her.  


“You seem distracted lately,” he told her as they stopped by the lake. Even the squid could not be seen out that day, Hermione observed as she listened to him talk. “Is everything alright?”  


Hermione hesitated. Though she was sure he would be more understanding than his friends, she could hardly tell him that she had been attempting to reeducate Regulus Black on his life views and reading habits. What if that got back to Sirius? She thought carefully for a moment before answering.  


“I’m just wondering what makes us all hate each other.”  


Remus looked confused. “Who do you mean by each other?”  


“Well muggles and wizards,” she explained. “People of different blood statuses and of different houses. Even family members.” She took out her wand and cast a small heating charm on first herself and then Remus. Smiling he leaned in and put his arm around her for even more warmth.  


“I think,” he began somewhat hesitantly, “that it makes people feel somewhat better about themselves if they have someone to hate. It takes away some of their dislike for themselves and their life if they do.”  


Hermione thought about that before nodding. “It makes sense,” she told him. From across the lake, she could see Hagrid making his way back to his cabin, a sack of some sort slung over his broad shoulders. “People also probably hate what they can’t understand. It happens all the time in the muggle world so why shouldn’t it happen here?”  


“Exactly.” He grew quiet then and simply leaned against her, before exhaling softly. She wished she could tell him then that she knew about him and that it was okay, that she would never tell anyone and that she wouldn’t judge him badly. But he had been tense enough about being a werewolf as a man. She couldn’t imagine how he might react as a boy to her knowing. It would likely come out in time, but she couldn’t break up this moment just to make him even more unhappy.  


Remus took her hand in his as they stood there, their backs to the wind. “You’re a very good person,” he told her. “So you think that everyone else has to be good too. You don’t want anyone unhappy. I don’t either and so I admire that about you.”  


“I’m glad someone does,” she said smiling. “Because I don’t.”  


Remus frowned. “You should have a higher opinion of yourself,” he told her. Hermione decided against telling him the same. He blushed before continuing: “I mean you are a good person, bright and kind and…” he blushed before adding, “and pretty.”  


Hermione pressed her lips against his then in lieu of further talking. He responded instantly, his mouth moving at first gently and then more urgently against hers. His lips were soft but cold and Hermione felt slightly saddened by the fact that as enjoyable as this was, she knew that it wouldn’t last. There would always be a gulf between them, years and years of an impenetrable gulf. His other hand came to grip her about the waist and Hermione felt a shiver go through her that had absolutely nothing to do with the intense cold around them. For a moment they stood like that, kissing softly, before the wind picked up and began to whistle in earnest.  


They broke apart then, their faces still gently touching. “I’ve never kissed a girl before you,” Remus said softly. He grinned sheepishly. “The girls always liked Sirius best; you know he was the bad boy type and girls always seem to go for that.”  


“I like nice boys,” Hermione told him, squeezing his hand. “The kind that kiss girls out in the cold and aren’t afraid to admit that it’s their first kiss.”  


Remus’s face brightened at her words and she felt they almost made up for any lies and misunderstandings between them. “You know he never cared for any of them though,” he added thoughtfully. “I don’t think Sirius cares for the girls half as much as they care for him. His concern has always been more focused on his friends.”  


“That’s not a bad thing though,” Hermione said. “He has some very good friends. Namely you.”  


Remus smiled then, a look that never failed to bring out the boyishness in his face and Hermione felt very cheered in that moment. “I’m lucky to have them,” he said quietly. “I didn’t have friends before Hogwarts.”  


“Neither did I, “Hermione said truthfully. “And I’m really thankful for them now.”  


“My friends are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he told her. “I know that you don’t like them very much, but they have stuck with me through everything, and I’m so grateful for it.”  


Hermione’s mind flashed up an image of Harry and Ron as he said this. “I understand completely,” she said softly. “More than you know.”  
0  


The next day was Hermione’s second to last detention with Regulus Black. It was a good thing that he seemed completely uninterested in speaking to her in favor of trying to finish the book she had given him, because Hermione was completely unable to communicate with anyone. After eating breakfast in the morning she had started to feel funny. She had spent the day in a fog, her head aching and her throat tickling. As soon as she was able she made her way back upstairs and crept under the covers, her lids heavy, and her body even more so. The dormitory was deserted, Pandora and the others still down in the mostly full common room doing work and talking.  


“I wonder if he likes the book,” she murmured sleepily to herself as she settled under the covers. “That was one of dad’s favorites. It was…” She fell into a deep sleep before she could even finish the sentence.  


0  


Hermione dreamed that night that she was back in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron. They were sitting before the fire in their favorite seats and she was piling books up as the boys laughed. The more her friends laughed, the higher the pile of books got, to the point where she was soon unable to see their bodies and soon after, their faces. The last thing she saw was the tip of Ron’s bright red hair before the last book covered even that from view.  


She could hear their laughter though, as familiar to her ears after five years of friendship as ever, Ron’s slightly higher pitched, Harry’s quieter and more intense. Whatever it was that had them laughing they weren’t sharing the joke with her. She bristled at this unpleasant idea as the fire crackled and the boys laughed with merriment. “What are you laughing at?”  


No answer. Just more laughter, louder than ever. Again she asked: “What are you laughing at? Is it me? Are you both laughing at me?” Why did they always have to leave her out?  


“It’s your fault,” a small voice from her right spoke up. Pettigrew smiled his nasty little smile as he regarded her from an armchair. “You did leave them, you know. And nobody likes to be left. I should know. My friends do it all the time to me.”  


“It’s true,” Remus added sadly as he came to stand beside Pettigrew. He was holding The Invisible Man in his hands. “I’m just second best or maybe even third best compared to Sirius and James. I think I’ll turn invisible. That will make everyone happier, won’t it?”  


“No,” Hermione told him. The fire continued to crackle to her left. She felt like putting it out, it was starting to get so warm. “I don’t want you to be invisible.”  


“No, because that’s what you are,” Pettigrew said happily. “The Invisible Girl. Everyone thinks they can see you, but they are not seeing anything real.” He grinned at her. Harry and Ron laughed from the other side of the pile of books and the fire burned.  


Hermione flushed. It was really getting to be so very warm in there. “You’re no different Pettigrew. Nobody really knows you, do they?”  


“Maybe not,” he told her as Remus came to lean on her chair. “But they will never know you. All you will ever do is lie.”  


“Oh dear, and I always thought you knew better than to lie,” another voice cut in. Hermione’s mouth dropped as she turned to regard her grandmother. Rose Granger stood in the center of the hearth, her curly grey hair and long blue dress untouched by the flames. She was holding Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.  


“Nana?” Hermione felt as though the flames were touching her instead, it was so warm. “Nana what are you doing here?”  


“Just reading,” Rose told her cheerfully. “You always loved fairy tales but I can’t read aloud to an invisible girl, now can I?”  


Hermione looked down and cried out. Her body was almost gone, her hands vanishing before her eyes. Pettigrew, Remus and Rose Granger all gathered around in the flames, watching with interest as she disappeared more and more. The flames were brighter than ever, the heat intense as she struggled and cried pitifully against the waves of invisibility.  


“Nana, Nana help me!” She cried against the flames. It was so hot, everything was so hot, she must also be on fire, and would someone put her out?  


“Nana!”  


“Rose! Rose wake up!”  


“Nana! I’m burning! Help me please before I burn away!”  


“Rose, please wake up!” Water hit her then, cool and for a moment refreshing but not nearly enough to quench the flames. Hermione’s eyes shot open. She could just make out in the darkness a blonde haired figure leaning over her. Water dripped into her eyes and she closed them in exhaustion.  


“It’s so hot,” she moaned, as she clutched at the wet bed-sheets. “So hot!” Her throat felt like it was burning and everything ached. “It’s too hot!”  


“It’s okay Rose, I’m going to get Madame Pomfrey!” Another voice called from across the room.  


Hermione couldn’t answer because she was unfortunately burning. Into the flames she had been cast and Fred and George were looking down at her, their identical faces grinning mischievously. “Now don’t you know better than to touch our things?” Fred asked her. “After that nasty black eye you got?”  


“I’m sorry,” she tried to say but the words wouldn’t come out of her sore throat. George leaned in with a stick and poked her.  


“A little more on the other side,” he said cheekily. “I think this side is well done.”  


“Please help,” she finally got out. To her immense relief a third figure appeared. A woman, one who Hermione hadn’t seen in months, with long brown hair and tired brown eyes. She too, was wearing a blue dress. Hermione felt immense relief wash over her. Here was someone who would help.  


“It’s time to take your medicine dear,” Mrs. Granger said gently as she held out a small clear vial. Hermione reached for it eagerly and gulped down every drop. Her throat instantly began to burn less as her mother stared sadly down at her.  


“Will you stay?” she asked hopefully.  


Her mother shook her head. “You know I can’t.”  


Hermione didn’t understand. The fire was still burning, though not as intensely and nobody was putting it out for her. “Can you at least stay until the fire goes out?”  


Once again her mother shook her head. “You put yourself in it Hermione Granger, and only you can pull yourself out.” And then she left and Hermione was stuck there burning.  


Harry and Ron came to laugh some more but she didn’t even have books to throw at them. Regulus Black came too and he looked down at her with great satisfaction. He was holding The Invisible Man and she couldn’t help but in a sort of detached way think that the book got around a lot lately.  


“I burn too sometimes,” he told her. “So why shouldn’t you?” She had no answer to that. She struggled to get up but it was impossible.  


Then Sirius showed up and hit him with an oversized boxing glove and he went flying off into the distance like on an old cartoon. Hermione would have laughed at the image but her throat had gone back to burning and she could only stare.  


“You should have watched your health.” Lily Evans and Severus Snape had both showed up to see the fun. Lily offered her a smile while Snape scowled. He too had a copy of The Invisible Man clutched in his thin hands. Hermione found that strangest of all, for surely Professor Snape didn’t read fiction.  


“What do you think Severus, is she overworking herself lately?” Lily asked him.  


“I think that she’s an idiot,” he replied in his usual sour way. “Ten points from Gryffindor Miss Granger for not taking proper care of yourself. You should have known better by now.”  


Lily glared at him. “But she’s no longer a Gryffindor so you can’t take points from that house.”  


Snape glared back. “Oh, and ten points from Ravenclaw too,” he added without looking at Hermione.  


Lily’s face was as red as her hair by now. “I’ll turn you into a bat if you don’t restore those points to Gryffindor!” she yelled.  
“Ten more points from Gryffindor!” he yelled back. “For threatening a professor!”  


“Stop it both of you,” Hermione begged them. “Can’t you see I’m burning to death over here?”  


Snape rolled his eyes. “Enough of your theatrics Miss Granger you are not dying.”  


Hermione was fading away. Above her there was talking, but she could no longer make out the words being said. She felt everything growing heavy and then she was drifting off into the distance. She wondered if it would be nice there. Anything was better than lying here with heat consuming her.  


There was a rabbit with Professor Dumbledore’s hat on in the hallway ahead. How odd. She followed it, noting that as she did the burn grew a little less intense. It continued to hop and she had to walk very fast to keep up.  
“You need to tread carefully Miss Granger,” it told her in Dumbledore’s calm voice, its nose twitching as it spoke. “The future is not a toy.”  


“I know,” Hermione said. “I just can’t get back to it.” The old burn flared up again for a moment and her throat ached at her talking but she continued anyways. “I can’t get back. I’ve tried to just live here, but I don’t really know what to do. I’m very confused.”  


The rabbit reached into a purple waistcoat pocket and pulled out a watch. “It’s time for you to wake up Miss Granger,” he said gently. “Go on now, wake up.” And with that she drifted away once more into the darkness.  


9  


When she woke up it was to find herself in the infirmary, sunshine streaming through the nearest window and Madame Pomfrey fussing around making up a recently emptied bed nearby. When she spotted Hermione looking at her, she straightened up and came over to her.  


“Oh good, your awake,” Madame Pomfrey said. “You gave us quite a fright young lady. Oh no, none of that,” she added sternly as Hermione sat up. “You are going to lie back down and relax. You were horribly ill.”  


“For how long?” Hermione asked. Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears.  


“For three days,” she was told by the school healer.  
Hermione could believe it. It had felt like a hundred days that she had lain there, burning and aching. “So today’s Sunday then?”  


“Yes, you have the day to rest and I expect you to get it,” Madame Pomfrey said firmly. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to tell the Headmaster that you are awake.”  
Hermione was confused as to why Professor Dumbledore needed to know that she was awake but it wasn’t long before he showed up to put her curiosity to rest. “Miss Perkins,” he nodded curtly. “If we may have a few minutes alone Poppy?” he asked gently.  


Madame Pomfrey hesitated. “Alright, but please remember that Perkins here needs her rest. She has been through an awful ordeal.”  


“I understand implicitly, Poppy,” Dumbledore said to her. “Just a few minutes then, if you please.”  


Madame Pomfrey nodded. She turned and walked back to her office, closing the door after her. Now alone in the hospital wing, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore looked at each other.  


“It would seem that you have an unfortunate enemy Miss Perkins,” the Headmaster told her. “Traces of Chelidonium Miniscula were found in your system. Do you know what that potion does?”  


Hermione nodded. “It causes the body to heat up and a person to grow fatigued and feverish over time.”  


“Exactly,” Dumbledore nodded. “Its properties are slow to appear compared to most potions but remain in the system for far longer. Though easy to cure, if left too long in the body, the person may grow extremely sick.”  


Hermione felt sick just thinking that someone had tried to poison her right in the Great Hall. The Headmaster must have sensed her nervousness for he continued.  


“Madame Pomfrey has removed the potion found in your system, so there is no harm done, but I should still like to know if you have any suspicions as to who could have done this.”  


Hermione thought on that. There were no Ravenclaws that she had a bad relationship with, or Gryffindors, or for that matter Hufflepuffs. But amongst Slytherin she had already made several enemies. Still she didn’t feel completely sure and she told him so.  


“I see,” he nodded. “Well, we will be keeping an eye out for anything suspicious in the future. Thank you for your time Miss Perkins. I do hope you are feeling better.”  


“Thank you sir,” Hermione tried to smile. She watched him leave, feeling like a weight had settled in her chest. She had been back in 1976 for less than six months and unless she had missed her guess, she already had several enemies. There was one in particular that gave her a nasty feeling that she couldn’t shake. There was another conversation that was due and she had to have it very soon.  
9  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the plot thickens. Sort of. In case you’re all wondering Harry Potter wiki defines Chelidonium Miniscula, as a mild potions believed to possibly be used as a poison. Since the wiki doesn’t have much info, I essentially added the effects of the poison myself to create Hermione’s little fever dream. Next chapter we will have Regulus’s thoughts on world literature and Hogsmeade with Lupin. Stay tuned and thanks for the reviews.


	11. Chapter 11

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”   
― Jodi Picoult, 

Do Not Go Gentle

“He never would have gotten far in world domination, wizards would have stopped him, so it is all for nothing.” And that was Regulus Black’s take on The Invisible Man. Typical.

Hermione just shook her head at him. “The idea of course is that witches and wizards don’t exist in this universe. As far as I know, H.G. Wells didn’t know anything about them, so he wouldn’t have known they had their own ways of becoming invisible.”

Regulus humped, which was rather uncharacteristically undignified. “Well, he still wouldn’t have got very far. What kind of invisibility doesn’t cover the whole person, clothes included?”

‘Well he has a point,’ Hermione thought. “It’s a bit of originality though,” she instead told him. “Having to handicap your character like that.”

“What does that mean?” he asked her, looking puzzled. 

“It means they have something that limits them,” she said. He was silent for a moment as though processing this.

“It’s still a stupid idea,” he finally said. 

Hermione tried not to let her weariness by the conversation show. It had only been a day since she had woken up and she still felt tired and sore. Still they had agreed to meet in the library so they could talk over their essays on each other. Neither of them wanted more detentions, or to miss their Hogsmeade weekend, so there they were.

“So,” Hermione pulled her notes towards her. “We each have to write about the other in order to be done with our punishments. Would it be worth mentioning that we both like to read?”

Regulus grimaced. “I like to read. You apparently waste your time with muggle literature about muggles with delusions of grandeur who get invisible by not wearing clothes.” 

“Oh, you’re such a joy,” Hermione told him. “It’s almost Christmas, have some cheer and talk about yourself.”

“About myself?” his eyes narrowed. “You can talk about yourself if you want. You seem to like lecturing people, so that’s a start.”

“You in turn have a great knack for annoying people,” Hermione said in turn as cheerfully as she could muster. “Shall I jot that down?”

Regulus glared at her. Then he glanced over her shoulder. “There’s a bit of joy for you,” he said sarcastically. “Potter and his hanger on.”

Hermione turned and sure enough James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had just come in. James headed off to the Transfiguration section, Pettigrew trailing behind him. 

“Strange seeing Pettigrew in a library,” Regulus remarked. “I doubt he gets much reading done.”

Probably not,” Hermione agreed. 

Regulus smirked at her. “You don’t like him much do you? It’s written all over your face.”

“No,” Hermione had to admit. “I don’t particularly care for him.” She looked down at her notes again, somewhat troubled by her expression being that transparent. 

“So he’s bad but Lupin is worthy of snogging? Good to know.” His smugness was positively loathsome. 

“Remus is different. He’s actually intelligent.” Hermione felt a stab of guilt at this. Since when did she judge people by how intelligent they were?

Regulus just looked amused at this. “So it matters how intelligent someone is? How very Ravenclaw of you.” At her look of annoyance, he added: “so that could go in the essay couldn’t it, a dislike for Pettigrew on account of him being not smart enough for either of us?”

Hermione was not amused. “I don’t just dislike people for not being smart enough.” 

“Whatever you say, Perkins. Just so you know though, you won’t get any arguments from me.”

Hermione had to steer the conversation away from this topic. She couldn’t believe that the first thing they agreed on had to be Peter Pettigrew. “So we can agree that we like reading, you like Quidditch, what classes do you like?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” Regulus told her. “It’s all the same to me.”

Hermione sighed. “You must have some favorite. Mine happens to be Arithmancy. You can place that down if you like.”

Regulus shook his head. “Barty likes Transfiguration and Evan likes Potions but I have no favorite.”

Hermione stiffened, a hand unconsciously reaching up to her throat. “I couldn’t care less what Rosier and Crouch’s favorites are. We are talking about you.”

“Well I don’t have a favorite, so that’s not going down. You can instead talk about what a fantastic Quidditch player I am.”

Another sigh. “Your modesty knows no bounds.” From the corner of her eye she could see James Potter and Peter Pettigrew staring at her in surprise. As she saw Pettigrew lean in and whisper something, she bit her lip. She hoped they wouldn’t try and make a scene. Thankfully after a moment, they turned and walked away, leaving the Ravenclaw and Slytherin team in peace. 

“I can write that you like that stupid bard right?”

Well relative peace at least.

8

It was done. The essay’s had been written and handed in and Hermione was free to attend Hogsmeade with Remus. It should have been a time of happiness, where Hermione could simply bask in the freedom from detention with the surly younger Black brother and enjoy the trip and the Christmas holiday ahead. Yet somehow she was unable to muster the strength to be cheerful.

For one thing she still felt unusually tired even after a full night’s sleep, and with the mound of school work she had to do in preparation for her pre-holiday exams she was not always able to get the right amount of sleep. Hermione had been told that she might take awhile to feel fully recovered. She just wished awhile was over.

For another thing she found herself warily watching everything she ate, determined not to give a certain someone a chance to repeat their spiking of her food. 

Still Hermione found herself just a few days before Christmas heading across the grounds with Remus Lupin, both of them wrapped in thick cloaks and scarves to keep out the bitter cold. Remus was talking about an Arithmancy project they had just been assigned, and Hermione was struggling to appear alert and interested as they entered the main road of Hogsmeade, which had been decorated for the holidays.

“It looks nice,” Remus said. He was pointing at a nearby shop window, which was done up with silver and gold lights and holly. “They sell a lot of pumpkin flavored foods there. Would you like to go in and try some?”

Hermione smiled. That actually sounded nice. “Do they have pumpkin flavored coffee?”

Remus nodded. “They have a little of everything.”

“Then let’s go in.” 

He led the way into the warm little shop, pumpkin wafting out from the doorway and filling Hermione’s sense of smell. The store had a small cozy feeling, with holly hanging overhead and more lights twinkling by the counters. Displays featuring everything from pumpkin figurines to pumpkin flavored cookies, pastries and candy lined the walls. At the end of the room behind the main counter stood a round, rosy-cheeked witch in orange robes. She smiled at them as the pair approached her.

“What can I get for you dearies?” she asked kindly. 

“Two pumpkin coffees please,” Remus answered. He then turned to Hermione. “Do you want anything else?”

“No thank you.” The rosy-cheeked witch took Remus’s money from him and stepped away to place their orders in the back as Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her in surprise.

“Are you alright Rose?” he sounded concerned. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Actually, I haven’t been sleeping very well,” Hermione admitted. “The exams and all are getting to me.” She thanked the shopkeeper as her drink was handed to her. It felt pleasantly warm in her hands. 

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Remus asked. He led her to a small table off to the side. As she set her coffee down in front of her Hermione pondered how best to answer. 

“I’ve been feeling kind of funny since I woke up in the hospital wing,” she might as well come out with it, if not to Remus than to no one else. “Could you keep something between us?”

Remus looked at her very seriously. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

So she told him about her bout of sickening potion and the conversation with Dumbledore. It felt good to share it with someone, though she was not entirely sure what he was going to do to help. Surprisingly enough she found herself doing something she had never expected to do at that time or at any other. She found herself defending Regulus Black.

“Are you sure he had nothing to do with this?” Remus asked her for about the third time as Hermione sipped her coffee. She waited a moment, letting the warm liquid slid down her throat and settle in her stomach before answering.

“It’s not him. Actually I have my suspicions as to who it is responsible, but I can’t entirely be sure.”

Remus hesitated a little too long for her liking before answering. “He seemed very angry after Sirius attacked him Rose, and I know he is a member of Slughorn’s club, so he must have at least some talent at potions. If he wanted to get back at Sirius…”

“He would have gone for Sirius directly,” Hermione said. “Or gone after James more likely. Sirius and I aren’t friends and it wouldn’t make sense for him to punish me instead.”

“He did get a few weeks detention after fighting with you and it’s not the first time he has put you in the hospital, Rose.” Remus was looking very solemn. Hermione almost felt tempted to laugh but this wasn’t really a laughing matter.

“He didn’t actually mean to do that,” she said. “He is a bit of an idiot but I don’t think he really means to hurt anyone.” As she said this she realized how much she found herself believing this. Regulus Black was rude, prejudiced, selfish, petty and obnoxious, but she didn’t think of him as violent. Even when they fought she had always started anything physical. His friends on the other hand…She brushed that thought off.

Remus still didn’t look convinced. “It’s possible,” was all he said. “Though I don’t see what other enemies you could have made who would do this. No one else dislikes you.”

Hermione smiled ruefully at him. “I would hardly say that no one else dislikes me. Your friend Pettigrew doesn’t seem to think I’m so great.”

Remus shook his head at her. He was watching a couple picking out pumpkin candies as he spoke. “Peter isn’t much of a people person. He is a little funny sometimes.”

“Oh, I’m sure he thinks he is hilarious,” Hermione said sarcastically as she remembered him butting in to their last date. Luckily the boy in question had been spotted heading across town with James Potter and Sirius Black before they had entered the shop. She was tired and didn’t want a repeat.

Remus smiled at her. “Don’t let him bother you. Peter’s harmless.”

Hermione drank more of her coffee instead of answering. She wished that she knew nothing of the future but all she could see ahead for this group of friends was death. One day a tired gray looking Remus Lupin would be looking at a lifetime without friends or a job, at a war that seemed to have no end in sight, at prejudice and isolation. She could feel at that moment how alone it was, having such a secret cause an impenetrable gulf between you and others, and she found herself taking his hand in the place of future talking. 

‘It’s okay,’ she wanted to say, ‘when he betrays you and James and Sirius are gone I will be here.’

A moment passed by and he squeezed her hand back and she felt how little a future there might be for her if she didn’t find a way back and the thought that she could stay here and try to build a future from this time rose into her mind, an impossible thought filled with possibly catastrophic consequences. She couldn’t stay here with him, she didn’t belong, and at times this relationship alone seemed to be going against every instinct she had that told her not to mettle with time. 

They held hands and she thought with guilt of a tired man who was facing a future of uncertainty and prejudice and how little she could do to stop this all from happening

Her hand slowly slid out of his and came to rest on the table.

9

There were more presents than she had expected on Christmas morning, certainly enough to make her feel guilty that she could not afford to get presents for all of her friends in return. Pandora had given her a book on creating your own charms, Emmeline a book on wandless magic and Aurora a book on the magical properties of names. Lily Evans, who she had paired up with a few times in Charms and frequently found herself conversing with at Slughorn’s party, had sent her some sugar quills. 

Remus had surprised her in the entrance hall before breakfast with a lovely periwinkle blue scarf that had little bronze stars on it. He was blushing as he wound it around her. Hermione, feeling more cheerful than she had in weeks, kissed him lightly on the mouth, ignoring the giggles of a group of younger Hufflepuff’s who had emerged from the stairs behind them. Arm in arm they headed into the Great Hall, where she joined him at the Gryffindor table so she could thank Lily Evans for her gift.

These gifts were all well appreciated but the one that really stood out was the silver wrapped book she had found nestled in between Emmeline’s and Pandora’s. It was an old book, very carefully maintained called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It came without a note but unless Hermione had lost her touch she knew exactly who had sent it and he would be getting back a copy of Perrault’s fairy tales as soon as she could get an order sent out to Diagon Alley, where she remembered seeing a very affordable copy in Flourish and Blot’s muggle section.

The rest of the morning was spent wandering the grounds with Remus, even letting herself get caught up in a raucous snowball fight between him and his friends. With all of her dormmates having gone home for the holidays, she felt distinctly outnumbered surrounded by all of the Gryffindor sixth years, although no one else seemed to notice. Remus takes her side and they cheerfully join Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald in waging a snow war on Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, while Sirius howled theatrically in betrayal at Remus for betraying his friends for a girl. It was silly and frenetic and so very fun that she found herself thinking back to Gryffindor fights involving the Weasley siblings, Harry and herself from years past. 

At lunch several heating charms have to be cast before any of them are presentable to go inside and she found herself gravitating towards the Gryffindor table to join in on the food and excitement. It’s an excellent lunch, it’s an excellent dinner that awaits them later that day as well, a feast of roast beef and potatoes and gravy and pudding. Hermione goes to bed early that night, her mind still slightly ill at ease in spite of the great day she had just experienced. 

She doesn’t know why but she felt as though things are going too good. It’s almost as though the other proverbial shoe is poised in midair, ready and waiting to drop at any second. It’s a silly thought, one that she had felt building up all evening, whenever things had felt at their lightest and happiest. It’s hard but she eventually manages to push it out of her head long enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes up in the morning and enters the Great Hall, it’s to solemn looking faces and quiet murmurings and it only takes as long as reaching Remus Lupin to find out why. 

There was a Death Eater attack on a Muggle population where one of their professors resided during the holidays. Professor Seedling was dead. 

8

So I know it’s been awhile but I’m still here I promise. This chapter is mostly filler but I figured you might as well get something. I hope you all enjoyed it.


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